


Spellbound

by LadySpade



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, Demons, Devils, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Magic, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Mild Gore, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Romance, Trauma, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 72,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySpade/pseuds/LadySpade
Summary: Things ever hardly work out as expected. This much was ever true for Vergil ever since he had Dante had at long last returned from the demon world about a year and a half ago. Part of which included needing the help of a certain witch when all hell breaks loose and what seemed like a simple job goes south. Not once did he or his new friend expect much to follow from that fateful meeting that day. Though, like most things that come and go in life, it would seem the fates have other plans in mind as little by little, their fates quickly become entwined into one, all the while unaware of the brewing storm ahead of them.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Witch!Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 36
Kudos: 124





	1. A Fateful Encounter

The job was supposed to be a short, sweet and simple one, just like always. 

They’d go in, find the demons, kill them, and then be back at the shop roughly sometime before midnight. It was only supposed to be a mild swarm of relatively minor demons according to the report they had received for the job, so the brothers had no problem in assuming the job would be done shortly after they had first arrived. Unfortunately for them, however, such a statement couldn’t have been further from the truth. While there were in fact swarms of minor demons all about the place, the last thing either had expected was to find the very demon that had been responsible for controlling the swarms in the first place, otherwise known as the swarm’s ever abysmal queen. 

While the job had taken only another hour or so more than expected to completely take out the swarms and track down what remained, it wasn’t without the brothers taking more than their share of hits; these particular hits consisted of powerful sting that would embed thick, venomous shards into its targets flesh. Due to the potency of the venom and the viscous material that oozes from the shards, it causes a great deal of pain for the victim while also making them hard to remove in the process, meanwhile slowing any regeneration to a halt while also gradually draining the target of its energy. And unfortunately for Vergil, his large devastating attacks on the swarm were exactly what had made the queen choose him to be her prime target. Although Vergil had managed to slay her by the end, it wasn’t without passing out soon after, leaving Dante to his current situation, dragging his unconscious twin to the one woman he knew would be able to help. And if someone of her skill couldn’t help then...well, let’s just say it was the last thing that Dante wanted to even consider right now. After all, there wasn’t a witch in this town that Dante knew that couldn’t handle demonic injuries better than her. She had patched up Nero and him plenty of times in the past, so if there was a good enough bet to save Vergil, this would be it. It didn’t matter what jobs she’d have for him later to pay for the supplies, Vergil’s health was his top priority, and there wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell he’d dare try and risk it. 

Her shop was rather small and simple from the outside with a pleasing dark green and black lined exterior with a number of plants and hanging charms decorating the front view of the shop windows. Although Dante knew she wouldn’t likely be taking any customers around this time, likely mostly cleaning up right around now as it neared ten o’clock or so. He didn’t bother to knock as he came in, shoving the door open with his foot as he carried Vergil on his shoulders, a soft chime of a bell echoing throughout the shop that was only to be deafened by the sound of Dante’s frantic yelling. 

“Y/N! Hey! Could really use that magic touch of yours, babe!” Dante yelled, Vergil softly groaning while fading in and out of consciousness, his side pounding with pain as the venom continued to flow through his veins, all the while gradually making it harder to breathe more and more by the minute. The shop was dark with the exception of the faint glow of the outside street lamps and the faint glow of light from the backroom, which bled in from the bottom of the cloth covered doorway behind the glass counter. Various concoctions, protective charms and medicinal herbs lined the nearby shelves. Had it not been for the direness of the situation, Dante might have considered being able to check out whatever new products you had in stock, perhaps even consider a refill on that cologne he liked to buy from you. 

“Good gods, Dante, do you know what time--Oh...Shit. Okay.  _ That  _ explains a lot,” a feminine voice quickly added as her eyes landed on the unconscious and bleeding half demon in his arms. “Alright, come on. Get him to the backroom and put him on the table. I’ll get my supplies. Don’t try to remove anything until I say otherwise,” she ordered as she quickly darted into a nearby side room, shuffling through various bags and drawers, grabbing a number of small bottles, bandages and medical tools. 

Dante made his way to the back of the shop, kicking open the door to the medical room before lugging Vergil over to the large padded table. It wasn’t the most ideal place for someone to rest, though it wasn’t as though the legendary devil hunter had come with much of a warning. While he was more than keen on identifying and slaying demons, he’d hardly consider himself an expert in dealing with such injuries in having relied on his own demonic healing abilities for so long, and it wasn’t as though he could ask his unconscious twin for such insight either. Besides, he knew the witch long enough to know she was capable when it came to dealing with demon-related injuries, and if anyone could get Vergil out of this mess. 

By the time she had come back, she had a large tray in hand with a number of different labeled potions and concoctions. Tying up her hair into a tight bun and slipping on her gloves, she had begun to gradually pick apart what bits of fabric remained of the clothing around the main sight of the injury. Dante could feel his insides groan and twist at the sight of the wound, a dark purplish black substance oozing with a mix of blood, leaving behind a god awful smell that made him want to gag. He knew the damage must have been bad when Vergil had passed out, but he hadn’t realized it had been this bad. 

“Well, doc? What’s the verdict?” Dante said half-jokingly in an attempt to try and ease the anxiety that was buzzing around his head like a swarm of bees that just had its hive kicked and throttled. 

“Well....Good news or bad news first?” Y/N asked, not removing her gaze from Vergil as she reached for a cloth and rubbing alcohol with one hand, carefully pulling apart pieces of torn clothing from the sight of the wound with the other to get a clearer view. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Touche. Well, good news is you came in at a good time. The poison is still fresh and can be dealt with soon. Your brother will be in a world of pain when he wakes up later and probably will have to be on rest for at least a week or so to give his healing abilities time to fully recover and kick in,” she explained as she began to clean away portions of the venom before tossing the pieces into the nearby bin. “Bad news is it may take him some time to regain consciousness. Possibly a day or two, maybe three if the venom has gotten far enough. It’ll take some time for his abilities to kick back in as I said before, but ultimately he should be fine.” Cleaning up more of the area, she quirked a brow over to the devil hunter. “You two got cocky, didn’t you?” 

“I--well, I wouldn’t say  _ we  _ but--” 

“Dante,” Y/N said, her brow narrowing sharply with the scorn only comparable to that of a mother who just caught her children doing something naughty. “I’ve warned you about getting cocky, demon powers or not. You can’t always rely on your old man’s little gift to get you out of scraps.” 

As much as Dante wanted to brush her off, he couldn’t be more painfully aware of the fact as he stared down at Vergil, closing his mouth and swallowing whatever retort he had for her. She was right after all. She always was. Even though she hardly looked more than a day or two over 28, he knew all too well that Y/N had more than her share of wisdom to give when it came to situations. He dared not guess her actual age, knowing it would likely end up with a hit from something that made Vergil’s summoned swords look like mere needles. 

“Alright, hand me those tweezers to your left. I’d say we’re about ready to pull out a number of these shards,” she said, wiping her brow as she tossed the last of the cotton balls into the nearby trash. “You might want to keep him held down just in case. He may be unconscious for now, though there’s no telling how his demonic half may react once we start pulling these out.” 

“Speaking from experience, doc?” 

“Dante, please, I’ve seen how you handled me picking glass shards out of you the last time you came in here for medical,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes as she eyed the smaller pieces first, gently testing the deepness of each of the poisonous shards with the end of the tweezers. “Last I checked, young man, you very near shifted on me.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t even--”

“ _ Twice.”  _

Dante could feel himself grimacing at the memory as Y/N carefully adjusted her glasses and moving the nearby bin closer to her. Even though there were plenty of times where he could have easily healed up on his own, she was always there to patch him up with that undeniable motherly scorn that she always kept in hand when she was ready to lecture him for his infamous recklessness afterwards. So much so that she basically became the resident healer for the shop, Lady and Trish often coming in for various business when they’re not on the clock. Regardless as to whether it’s demon killing bullets, pain relieving salves, or natural beauty products, there was always something the girls and him ended up coming around for. Nero and Nico weren’t much different, occasionally popping in and out for things that ranged anywhere from basic medical supplies to even just raw demon components, there wasn’t anything this keen eyed witch didn’t have in stock. 

“Alright, if you’re done standing around and ready, I’d suggest pinning him down by his shoulders while I begin to pull these out. He might just stay asleep throughout it, though there’s never really any way to tell how a demon is going to react to something like this. Half demon or not,” Y/N said, positioning Dante at Vergil’s shoulders and waiting till the devil hunter was sure to have a full grip on his twin. “Ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, babe.” 

“Very well. Just don’t be surprised if you get stabbed.” 

“Oh, babe, you don’t even know the half of it,” Dante laughed softly as she merely shook her head and began to gradually pull out each shard. She started with the smaller and thinner pieces to experiment, meanwhile keeping a close eye on her patient to check for any reactions. Aside from the faint minor groan, there wasn’t much of a reaction, much to her silent relief. She really wasn’t in the mood to have to clean up any more blood than she usually had to, and the last thing she needed was to have Dante of all people pinned into her wall late at night. It didn’t matter how much she enjoyed the son of Sparda’s company, there was only so much she was willing to clean up because of him. Sure, he brought in more than his share of components for devil arms, potions and other things from jobs, though there was only so much property damage she was willing to let slip by. 

Gently setting the last of the small pieces of shards into the bin, she moved on to the larger pieces. These ones were likely going to cause either the biggest amount of pain in dealing with them, though at this rate they were emitting far too much venom for her liking, and unless she wanted a possible dead half devil in her clinic, these would need to be dealt with. She motioned for Dante to strengthen his grip with a low nod before continuing, a part of her holding in her breath as she began with the first piece. She couldn’t help but notice several signs of the venom as it started to accumulate more, meanwhile noting symptoms such as his increased heartbeat and breathing and enlarged pupils. She would have to get some of the potions from the back to help relieve any bodily stress later once this was done, and perhaps set up an IV to ensure his body would get more fluids. She could use a number of the shards’ leftover venom to form an anti-venom potion later, though first things first was biting off the head of this metaphorical serpent. She would also have to bring out some of the finer charcoal from the back for this one. The less the poison is allowed to get into the bloodstream, the better. There’s more tensing and wincing from Vergil despite remaining mostly unconscious, every now again mumbling incoherently in his sleep. 

_ Delirium. Most likely a side effect of the poison. I’ll have to check him for a fever after this,  _ Y/N noted silently as she pulled out another piece, this time placing the larger pieces into a small glass container on the tray next to her. While she’s relieved to find out most of the larger shards still contain most of their venom, it does little to comfort her in the half devil’s recovery. Although she had never met or knew the half devil personally, she had come to hear enough from Nero and the others to have grown a sense of curiosity and intrigue regarding the older twin. To be the infamous twin brother of Dante of all people and the missing father of Nero, arguably her more favored customer of the Sparda bloodline, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in learning more about this mysterious devil of a man. That, and it was hardly so often that such a man could ever catch her eye the way he did. 

All that was left by the end of it was the largest piece, the piece she was admittedly the most apprehensive about regarding how it might draw out his inner devil, possibly risking the chance of having his devil trigger activate in self defense. While she was sure Dante could likely handle things in the case that it did, there was always that sense of caution and wariness that would linger in the back of her mind. Some might call it paranoia, but for Y/N, she called it survival. As both her mentor and life experience had so often taught her time and time again, you can never be too careful with devils or any such hybrid, even if they claim to be fully in control of themselves. All it could take is a mere slip of conscious control to have it make all the difference for someone like her, regardless of whatever magic she might have at her disposal. 

“You good there, Y/N?” Dante asked, likely having noticed her lack of movement and the sudden shift in her gaze. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just... _ give me a moment _ . I just don’t want to risk anything with this last piece,” she replied, pausing to wipe her brow before taking several deep breaths in an attempt to compose herself. “Alright, counting backwards from five. Five...four... _ three _ ... _ two... _ **_one_ ** _.”  _ Carefully placing the end of the shard at the end of her tweezers, she gave one swift twug, the piece coming free with a sicking sound, blood quickly pooling around the entrance of the wound minutes later. Although Vergil had hardly shifted into his devil trigger, there had be a close flicker of power that had emanated around him, all the while letting out a cry of pain amidst his delirium before falling back into unconsciousness, leaving the witch and Dante to stand back in silence as they exchanged breathless looks between Vergil and themselves. 

“Is he...will he--”

“He’ll be fine now that the pieces are out yes. I just need to clean the wounds next. I have some charcoal I’ll also need to feed him to get the toxins out of his system. I’ll need to turn him on his side in case he purges anything so that he doesn’t drown in his own vomit,” she explained, carefully dropping the last chunk of shard into the container. She sounded a bit too calm for her own good admittedly, though she’d rather the numbing shock than the overwhelming physical panic to take over. Besides, she had a patient to tend to, and the last thing she needed was to get lost in her own head. Taking another deep breath and running a hand through her long hair, she motioned for Dante to hand her the nearby rolls of bandages. 

“I can take care of the rest here myself now that the worst is over. Why don’t you head home and get some rest, big guy? No offense, but you look and smell like shit.” Y/N chuckled tiredly, applying peroxide to some cotton balls as she began to clean the remaining wounds. 

“You sure, babe? It’s late and--”

“I’ll be fine, Dante. There’s not much left to do and I have a feeling your brother isn’t going to be getting up for a while. I’ll have an IV and some regeneration spells going for him in the meantime while he rests,” she said, not bothering to look up at the younger son of Sparda as she cleaned. “I’ll give you a call as soon as he wakes up.”

“Hah, yeah. I suppose you’re right. I did bring him to the best witch and healer in Redgrave City,” Dante chuckled, earning a soft scoff of amusement from the witch across from him as she gently shook her head, trying her best to hide her amused face. 

“Yes, yes, you can kiss my ass all you want later. Now shoo. Run along and go home already, dumbass. Take a shower too. You utterly reek of demon guts. Oh, and don’t worry about the bill. We can talk about arranging that after tough guy here wakes up and recovers more.” She could barely contain her amusement as she heard Dante’s laughter turn into a tired groan before sighing. She hardly named what the price would be and here he was already complaining, not that she had expected anything else from the infamous devil hunter. 

“Alright, alright. Just promise not to work me into the ground like last time, babe,” Dante sighed as he lingered in the doorway. “Don’t think I could take working another all-nighter like that ever again.” 

“Considering what that payment was for, it was well deserved. Can’t exactly use magic to repair my shop all the time because you and Nero love crashing into it so much whenever you’re around,” Y/N chuckled. “Tell you what, buy me a drink next week and I’ll consider going easy on you for it. Deal?” 

“Hah, whatever her ladyship wishes,” Dante winked as he got up with a soft grunt, giving a slight wave before heading out the door. 

“Tsk, tsk, devil hunters, I swear,” Y/N sighed as she leaned back in her seat, gently tossing the bloodied swabs into the trash before picking up one of the bandage rolls. Her gaze turned gentle as she looked at the sleeping form of Vergil, softly smiling as she shook her head and carefully began to bandage him. “I swear, you’re far too pretty for your own good, handsome. Now if only men like you were only half the trouble,” she softly chuckled with a bittersweet grin. “But then again, I suppose you boys wouldn’t be nearly as interesting then.” 

Gently placing her hand against his face, she couldn’t help but admire the sleeping devil’s features, noting details such as the fineness of his cheekbones and the pleasant smoothness of his skin despite the slight hint of a small fever she would have to compress later. Though, as deep as she was in her thoughts, they weren’t deep enough to note the way Vergil seemed to gently press his face into her hand, causing the witch’s heart to race with a slight flutter, her own face suddenly growing slightly warm within seconds; almost as though a brief and sudden flame had suddenly been lit inside her usually cool collected form. It had been a long time since she had felt the touch of spring in her face like this, and it only made the feeling grow the more she would try to deny and suppress it. 

_ No, no, get your head out of the gutter, you idiot,  _ she quietly scolded herself as she shook her head in a futile attempt to regain her composure.  _ He’s just your patient. Nothing more.  _ However, it didn’t seem to matter how much she tried to admonish herself as her hand remained firm at the sleeping man’s side, her eyes admiring the way the moonlight from the window softly illuminated his features with a pleasant and almost angelic glow. She couldn’t help but smirk at the beautiful irony of the statement, though she didn’t mind it any less. 

She had him turned over on his side as she fed him the charcoal solution, carefully holding the fresh trash can she had fetched for him as his body purged whatever it could before eventually falling back into a peaceful sleep. Setting him up with an IV, a cold compress, and a series of healing sigils to project the regeneration spell she had picked out, she was ready to leave him until she felt something grab her wrist. She had expected many things that evening, though the last thing she had in mind was to see the bleary eyed Vergil looking up at her, his eyes red and barely open as they gleamed with tears. She had expected a bunch of delirious gibberish to come out, though found herself taken aback with what did follow. 

_ “P-please...don’t go...stay with me...” _

To say she was more than a little surprised was an understatement, and as much as she wanted to pass off such a tender and vulnerable statement, as being merely the product of fever induced delirium, there was something in his eyes that seemed to almost plead with her. His voice was hoarse and cracked, almost as though pleading through a cracked and fractured mirror. Between it and the soft pleading gaze he held on her, she felt as though she were listening to a frightened child, who dared not be left alone to face whatever nightmares the dark had to offer him. And despite the nagging urge to withdraw and hide, to run off and leave him alone to face whatever demons would greet him in the realm of dreams, there was something else. Something so painfully familiar and real in the way he looked at her, she could hardly stand to turn her gaze. For even the briefest moments, she wasn’t just staring at an infamous devil hunter and elder son of Sparda. 

Rather, she was staring at someone who had been through untold accounts of trauma and pain and for so long had built up a wall of steel and ice in hopes of protecting themselves from the cruelty of the world around them. Someone who simply wanted to feel safe and comforted in the looming darkness, and most of all, desired to not be alone when they needed her most. For even the briefest of moments, she wasn’t just looking at him. More than anything else, it was as though she was suddenly staring in her very own reflection. 

_ And little by little, the flame within her began to only further bloom and grow, leaving the walls of ice to gradually thaw and shrink.  _

Gently placing her hand over his, she silently nodded, pulling up a chair beside him as she continued to gently hold his hand. “Alright. I’ll stay with you, Vergil,” she whispered, speaking with the gentleness one would expect a mother to use on a frightened child in hopes of coaxing the demons away. “I’ll stay however long you wish me too. I promise.” 

Vergil had let out a soft sigh of what she could only describe as relief, watching the man gently close his eyes and fall back into whatever bliss she could offer him. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable position, she was willing to see her promise through to the end. Gently humming an old tune she had not dared sing in years, she remained beside him, only coming to stop once she was sure the dark slayer had officially fallen back into the realm of dreams. She would occasionally move to change his cold compress or IV, but even then still continued to remain by his side throughout the night before eventually falling asleep there herself. 

_ All the while blissfully unaware of what would come to greet her in the morning yet to come.  _


	2. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil finally awakens from his venom induced-coma, only to find himself in a strange and unfamiliar place, which only leave him with far more questions than answers. Though, all the while, nothing can quite prepare him for the charming yet peculiar woman who might just hold the answers he seeks. Now if only he could get past these unfamiliar feelings that keeps tugging at his chest.

She didn’t know how long it had been by the time she had finally woken up, the sun having long since risen over the horizon as its golden light bled in through the window blinds of the shop. Her body slightly ached from having slept hunched over for so long, her eyes still gradually adjusting between the leftover sleep that still sat in the corner of her eyes. Much to her surprise, her hand was still wrapped around her still slumbering patient, who thankfully seemed to look much better than the night before. More color had begun to return to his features and his breathing seemed to have returned to a more steady and normal rate. While he was far from being entirely healed, it seemed as though the sigils she had placed had done enough of a trick to help get his body back on track to being able to recover on its own. 

Getting up with a groan of discomfort, Y/N gazed around the small operating room, her eyes briefly checking over the leftover fluid in the IV before deciding to quickly replace it. She could feel her body protesting, practically begging her to go to her own bed and sleep for a few hours, though just from one quick glance at her watch only confirmed she would have no time for such a treat. Unfortunately she had a shop to open and manage for the next several hours, patient or no patient. Speaking of which, she would probably have to do something about that torn vest and jacket of his. She had some spare thread and fabrics in the back that she could easily work with to get both pieces of clothing back to normal, perhaps even throw in the wash real quick to deal with the leftover blood and poison that seemed to have left a rather unpleasant stain in its wake. 

A small nudge felt against her thigh stirred the witch from her thoughts as she looked down to the faintly panting form of one of her dear familiars. Taking the form of a large black dog akin to that of a pitbull, Hecate was one of the few familiars that Y/N was keen to keep around the shop for a number of reasons. The first and foremost being that this familiar was arguably the best in terms of serving as a literal guard dog, specifically having been carefully picked out among a number of other potential demonic familiars. Though, she supposed what made Hecate so special was the fact that much like her half devil companions, she too was only a half breed, having been carefully bred from that of a normal dog and a hellhound. Although Hecate was more than capable of being more than tenacious when in battle, she was as soft and faithful as any loyal dog was to its master. And much like most loyal dogs do, Hecate was keen on having some much needed breakfast. 

“Haha, there, there, love. I’m getting around to it, I promise. Just let me throw these in the wash and I’ll cook up some sausage and eggs. Sound good?” Y/N asked with a playful chuckle as Hecate merely barked happily in reply, bounding slightly from her spot beside the witch. “And no, you’re not getting more than three of each. We need to cut back on your meal sizes, hellhound blood or not.” 

Hecate whined slightly as she rolled onto her side, showing her belly as she pleadingly stared up at Y/N, who merely rolled her eyes in reply. 

“Oh don’t you start whining with me now, young lady. It’s either that or you can go demon hunting yourself. Now come on, let’s leave our friend here to get some rest, shall we?” Y/N moved over the dog with ease and headed towards the small alcove in the next room over that she used for the laundry room. It wasn’t a larger room like she would have wished, but it was doable at least. She supposed she could have used the last big payments she received from Morrison to get some expansions to the building done, though she also knew all too well that as long as Dante was around, she was going to need that extra cash saved for more repairs at some point in the future. 

She was careful to place the torn and stained clothes inside with an alchemical solution she used for tough and more particularly supernatural stains, regardless as to whether that be blood or generally anything demon related like demon venom. Thankfully due to the lavender scented solution that she used with the potion, there shouldn’t be any remaining traces of the incident other than a faint yet pleasing scent of lavender. She would have to dig around her fabric supply to find something close enough that she could blend with for the right texture and color of the coat and vest, though she was sure she would be able to find something given that his own preferences seemed to line up with her own. She wasn’t sure why she was so pleased by this, but she supposed it was nice to have similar tastes with someone, regardless as to how little she actually seemed to know about this mysterious and infamous Son of Sparda. 

A soft jump against the top of the dryer tore Y/N from her thoughts as yet another of her familiars had decided to make an appearance, a white haired and blue eyed cat she had so fondly named Jupiter. Although he wasn’t demonic in nature like Hecate, he was a spritely and clever minded little fey who liked to pop in and out of sight whenever it seemed to please him; that is, assuming the witch had yet to summon him herself. He served more as a spy than a combatant familiar the way Hecate was, who could easily shift between different forms as needed for combat. And although he could summon things such as balls of pale blue balls of fire if needed, he much preferred to stay away from any trouble that would try and come his way. 

“Yes, yes, you’re hungry too I see, my dear,” Y/N softly chuckled as she shook her head, gently scratching the familiar’s cheek as he let out a satisfied purr and meow, his tail swaying and twitching in delight. “Alright, alright. Breakfast time it is then. Come on,” she sighed, pressing the button on the dryer before heading to the kitchen. 

With the snap of her fingers and careful sway of her hand she began to cook, cracking and frying eggs with one hand and preparing the fresh pork sausages with the other. She normally would happily take her time to prepare breakfast, though it seemed her familiars were becoming less and less patient by the minute as she had stalled. “What ever will I do with you fools,” Y/N chuckled as the pair watched her from the floor and table with excitement as the delicious smell of fried eggs and pork filled the air, gradually filling and slipping past the kitchen before soon filling up other corners of the shop; all the while remaining oblivious as it would come to rouse the slumbering dark slayer in the next room ever. 

What had been a night of pain and nightmares had drifted into a pleasant world of warmth and comfort for Vergil, the nightmarish barrage of bloodshed, demons and screaming soon fading from him more and more. It was as though he was lying in a cool stream, little by little becoming pleasantly submerged in its pleasantly cooling waters. Although a part of him dared not wake from this soothing realm of rarely pleasant dreams, there was something tugging at him. Something warm and alluring beyond these cooling waters, something that shone through the waves with a light almost akin to sunlight, and yet the light was not nearly as harsh. In fact, the faintness was rather pleasant, and the more he stared at it, the more he realized it was more akin to moonlight, shining down upon him and bathing him in a gentle silver light, though never once becoming too harsh or blinding. And although there was a part of him that begged him to pull back into the darkness of the water, there was another part of him that urged him to move forward and embrace this warm and welcoming light. 

He wasn’t sure what it was he was expecting to find upon surfacing from the waves, though he didn’t mind what he did seem to find. Although much of his vision remained obscured and heavy, almost as though looking through a thick fog of steam, he could still see her, taking in the softness of her features as she seemed to stare deeply into him. Her face seemed to gently radiate this light that drew him in ever near like a moth to a flame, looking for even the tiniest bead of light in this overwhelming darkness that was attempting to surround him. To say her appearance was merely angelic was an understatement, and it didn’t take long before he found himself reaching out for her with pleading eyes. He was no longer the cold and aloof man who had allowed his heart and humanity to have become starved and closed off for so long, but rather, he had allowed himself to become the pleading and desperate child who feared the approaching darkness, and more than anything else, wanted to be pulled out and saved from the reaching grasp of the cold depths that so greedily sought to drag him down with them. 

_“P-please…don’t go…stay with me…”_ his mouth and throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he spoke, his voice cracked and fractured like broken glass as he did his best to cry out to her, his arms feeling as though they weighed several pounds as he reached for her. For even the briefest moment, he was sure the darkness would take hold and drag him under once more, coming back to haunt him in the end as it always did. Once again he was going to be left alone, left to the darkness, left to the demons, left to every haunting vision and pain that has continued to cling to him with the weight of heavy chains since that fateful day so long ago. 

However, despite how long he waited, despite how close the darkness felt, it did not come for him. It tried to reach as it screamed and cursed his name with its vile and limitless mouths, all gaping and ever ravenous as it reached for him with futile efforts. Rather, a soft and gentle voice pierced through all of that, casting aside the gluttonous darkness in one fell swoop as though it were pushing aside mere insects. 

_“Alright. I’ll stay with you, Vergil…”_

Much like the light that emanated from her, the voice too was gentle and pleasant, reaching out for him with a touch that seemed to envelope him entirely, seemingly casting out the darkness into oblivion as Vergil felt himself at peace once more, his eyes glued to the angelic figure before him. It was such a simple gesture, taking her hand in his, and yet it alone had been more than enough to save him from whatever hell had so hungrily awaited him. His body no longer felt heavy and his fear had seemingly evaporated, leaving only a sense of peace that seemed to cover him with the comfort of a soft warm blanket. For the first time in so many years, he was finally safe. This he knew for certain as her voice gently washed over him once more. 

_“I’ll stay however long you wish me to. I promise.”_

Vergil could feel himself softly drifting into the warmth of the light, just barely able to whisper a soft thank you as he began to close his eyes once more. 

It had been some time before Vergil had finally come to, quickly attempting to shield his eyes as his vision began to adjust. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t seem to ache as he attempted to move, softly grunting and groaning in protest. He didn’t recognize the world around him, unsure of where he was or why, the last thing he remembered being their fight with the demonic swarm. He could tell from his mostly bandaged torso and lack of a shirt that things clearly didn’t end well, though it certainly did little to shorten his growing list of questions. 

_Where was he? What happened to him? Where was Dante? What happened to the demon? Where was his sword and clothes? What are these strange glowing runes in the wall?_

Walking with a slight limp and using the IV stand has his crutch, he began to carefully study the surrounding area, noting the various assortments of odd looking bottles, books, plants and various other things. It seemed as though he was in some kind of odd shop, perhaps an apothecary of some sort? Were there any in Redgrave City? And of there was, why didn’t he know of it. 

Vergil paused as he found himself caught up in the pleasing scent of something cooking, letting out a deep yet pleased sigh as he carefully began to follow it, eventually coming to find what he believed to be the door to the kitchen. Perhaps there he would finally come to find some answers to his ever growing confusion. However, it didn’t take him long to pause upon hearing a familiar voice cut through the sound of cooking, his heart almost skipping a beat in the process as he tentatively listened.

“Now, now, you two, you’ve waited this long you can wait a little longer. Besides, I’m sure our friend will want something fresh to eat when he wakes up.” 

The more he listened, the more he was certain that this had been the very same voice he had heard in his dream, though much clearer and realer this time. Moving carefully as to not alert her of his presence, he watched her as she carefully cooked away at the stove, occasionally chuckling and smiling at the pair of animals that would nudge themselves against her side. At first glance he had almost mistook the large black dog beside her to be that of a panther purely from its sheer length and size, only realizing this mistake after hearing the animal bark in annoyance from being denied its food. That said, it hadn’t taken long before said canine had its eyes locked on him, tail wagging eagerly as it panted and barked at him.

“Hm? What are you barking about now, Heca— _oh_ ,” the woman began, her eyes now locked on him now as the sunlight perfectly illuminated her features with an almost otherworldly glow. Although it was brief, Vergil could have sworn to have felt her gaze sink into him. “Ah, good! You’re awake. And here I was worried you’d be under for another day or two.” Her smile, although soft, did little to undermine the radiance and warmth it emitted, causing the guarded half devil’s heart to practically skip a beat. “Come. Why don’t you have a seat while I finish this up? I’ll go finish up repairing your clothes while you eat.”

Vergil curiously watched her as she gestured for him to sit by the nearby table, unable to quite fully wrap his head around this scenario. One minute he wakes up in a strange and unfamiliar place shirtless and covered in bandages, and now he’s being offered freshly made breakfast by a strangely alluring woman? Surely this had to be some kind of fever dream. Perhaps another beautifully painted illusion of the demon’s poison? Either way, Vergil momentarily found himself willing to listen to her instructions as he carefully took his seat at the nearby table, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the woman as he did. 

“What is this place?” Vergil finally asked after a moment’s pause. 

“You, my dear Vergil, are in my shop. Well, a shop that also doubles as a clinic and apartment to be precise. Dante brought you here after your incident last night. To be perfectly frank, you looked like some kind of nightmarish pin cushion with the amount of pieces that were stuck in you,” the woman replied as she casually turned a piece of sausage. “Honestly it was a miracle you weren’t in a worse condition, demon blood or not.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the woman at the mention of demon blood. “How do you–”

“At ease, handsome. I’ve known your brother and son for quite a while now. I know what you three are. And fortunate for you, I know exactly how to aid and treat you,” she said with a coy smirk. “Thankfully the potion and sigils I gave you last night as part of your treatment seemed to have done the trick to fix you up. Even with your normal healing abilities as a cambion, that level of venom and the sheer amount it shanked into you would have fucked you up six ways to the ninth circle of hell and back, if not worse.” 

“I’ve studied and treated enough demons, humans, and everything in-between throughout my life. Your case was no different, and luckily for you and your brother, I just so happened to have enough equipment left in stock. Not that I couldn’t use other means to fix you up if I had no other choice,” she admitted with a slight smirk as she tossed a stray piece of egg white into her mouth. “Knowing how to treat and deal with demons and any kind of similar half breed comes handy in my field and is practically crucial if you wish to make good connections, regardless of what your end goals are.”

“And what kind of field would that be, exactly?” Vergil asked, his brow furrowing more by the minute as he watched and listened, not quite fully sure what to make of this peculiar woman. 

The woman turned to him with a playful smirk, her eyes practically gleaming with mischief. “He really has never mentioned me has he? Hah, well, then again I suppose that’s Dante for you. Oh well, I suppose this was bound to happen anyway,” she smirked, waving her hand in the air. 

Vergil watched in a mix of shock and awe as he watched as the salt and pepper shakers and set silverware began to float and twirl in the air before him before being quickly joined by orbs of faintly glowing light. Although a part of him tried to warn him to lurch back and guard himself, he couldn’t help but find himself entranced by what he was seeing. It was such a simple trick and yet a small part of him couldn’t help but feel amazed by this. What strange power was this? How had he never seen anything like this before? Just who exactly was this woman, and how on earth was she connected to Dante and Nero? 

As the lights vanished and the tableware was gracefully returned to their proper places, the woman couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. Vergil’s gaze returned to her form, searching for any kind of sign that may give some relief to his plethora of questions. “Just who are you exactly?” 

The witch smiled chuckled, turning off the stove before turning to the now deeply fascinated dark slayer. “My name is Y/N. As you may or may not have guessed by now, I’m a witch, and luckily for you, a very capable one.” Vergil watched as she came over to him, casually sliding the fried egg and sausage onto his plate before summoning a small plate of toast and a glass of milk. “That, and one who’s willing to give you a half decent meal. Your body is still in the stages of recovery, so you’re going to need all the energy you can get. Now, eat up. I’ll happily answer your questions in time. I’ll go fetch your clothes in the meantime.”

And without another word, she had left him to his meal, all the while in mild shock of what had just been revealed to him. This woman was truly a witch? She was undoubtedly some kind of spellcaster, that much he was sure of, but a witch? Vergil remembered the countless stories he had read about witches, even including the ones his own mother had told him as a child, and yet not a single one seemed to quite match up with whoever this woman was. She was by no means decrepit or old like the hag-like witches he had always heard about in stories. And although she was undoubtedly beautiful, she also didn’t seem like some kind of conniving sorceress who was planning his death or worse. After all, she had been mostly forthcoming with him, and clearly had some connection to Dante and Nero. 

That said, how come they had never mentioned her to him? Was she to be some sort of secret meant to be hidden away? Although he knew there was always just a chance it simply had never come up in conversation, he was even more shocked he had simply never stumbled upon the shop itself during his walks. He had come to know most of the shops and business in Redgrave City because of them, and yet somehow this little corner of the world managed to miss his eye so easily? Why? Or more importantly, how? 

“Ah, here we go! Good as new,” Y/N sighed, clearly pleased with her work. “I was able to mend it with some leftover cloth. I had a spell to make sure it mended and blended perfectly. Looks as though that whole fight never happened.” Her eyes seemed to gleam with pride as she placed them on the table before taking a seat, waving a hand to summon a nearby cup and kettle that had just finished boiling. 

Vergil watched her in careful interest, not quite fully sure of what to make of this rather strange and peculiar woman. “Do you always magic so often?”

“Mhm, no, not really,” she admitted with a shrug. “Though I am feeling quite warn and lazy this morning, so you’ll have to forgive me for using it more liberally than usual. Though something tells me that’s hardly your real concern, now is it?” Y/N’s eyes blinked at him as she sipped what smelled like a nice herbal tea that carried a rather pleasant scent. “Care for a drink,” She asked, likely having noticed Vergil’s pleased expression while already summoning another mug before he can even reject. “It’ll help soothe your nerves while we talk more.”

“What makes you think I’m in need of soothing?”

“Well let’s see, you’re a cambion who so happened to have learned that not only is magic real, but also you’ve been under the care of a witch you had no idea existed up until about five minutes ago while still recovering from the effects of demonic poison. I’d be more than a little stressed out if I were you,” Y/N replied with a faint yet teasing smirk. “Besides, although you’ve mostly recovered physically, I’m sure your mind is still trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. And yes, even adult half demons like you need to take care of their,” she quickly added as Vergil had begun to open his mouth to argue. 

“Hmph, very well,” Vergil softly scoffed, taking the mug carefully before bringing it to his lips, quickly finding himself being pleasantly surprised by the flavor as it washed over him. Apparently the witch was as good a tea maker as she was a cook and tailor. It was sweet with just the right amount of cinnamon, bringing an odd sense of comfort to the dark slayer as he took another sip. 

“Freshly grown sweet cinnamon black tea honey. Can’t go wrong with the stuff. I’d break out the Jasmine or Lemon Ginseng teas though I’ve yet to restock much of it. Though I do have a nice pomegranate green tea blend around here if that’s more your taste,” she offered before drinking more of her tea. “I try to keep a decently sized personal cache of the stuff when demand isn’t too high from orders.” 

“You grow and blend your own tea?” Vergil asked curiously. “I never would have thought of a witch as being someone with an interest in tea.” 

Y/N chuckled as she softly smiled, running a hand through her long hair, her face once again angled just right by the light of the sun. “Among many other things too I assure you, Mr. Sparda. Can’t rely on just medicinal sales all the time to pay for the bills,” she smirked with a teasing wink. “You’d be surprised to learn the amount of people who’d happily pay for fresh, homegrown stuff. That, and you can thank my mother and grandmother for passing on their obsession with the stuff. Does wonders for stress and headaches,” she sighed before gently setting down her mug, which Vergil now noted to have the form of a black cat as the mug with its tail being the handle. Vergil couldn’t help but feel himself smirk a bit at the stereotype, not that this witch of his seemed to mind the thought one bit. 

“But–” she began as she set the mug aside. “Idle chit chat aside. I know you have questions that I promised to answer. So by all means, ask away,” Y/N added as she leaned back in her seat, eyes trained on Vergil as he finished chewing on a piece of cooked sausage. 

“You mentioned you know of Dante and Nero. How exactly did you come to meet them?” 

“Ah yes, those two. Love them to bits but at the same time they drive me up a wall within the week with no problem,” she chuckled as she shook her head. “Technically I’ve met your brother on a number of occasions since he’s lived here in Redgrave city. He’s even hit on me on more than a few occasions. Not that he really remembers most of them.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Vergil scoffed, earning a laugh from the witch. Vergil could feel his heart tighten slightly at the reaction, though was quick to dismiss it as being nothing more than just his body acting up from recovering. What else could possibly make his own body act so foolishly? Surely there was no way this woman could possibly have developed any sway over him just like that. Sure she was a witch, but it wasn’t as though she had him wrapped around her pretty little finger by any means. 

“Officially it was Nero who I met first. I’d say he happened to drop in by my shop one day out of the blue, though I think that alone would have to be an obvious understatement compared to what actually happened,” she chuckled as she rested her cheek against her palm, smiling at the old memory. “When I say he happened to drop into my shop, by the way, I of course mean that in the most literal form of the term. Though I supposed ‘crashed into’ is also another fitting term for what happened.” 

Vergil had to blink at the statement as he stared at her, mouth slightly agape in disbelief. “Are you saying that he _literally_ –”

“Fell into my shop? Yes, yes I am. Left quite a sizable hole in my roof and wall while he was at it,” Y/N laughed with a faint snort. “He was apparently working on a job dealing with a particularly large demon that day. One minute he’s handling it just fine and the next minute he gets a bit too cocky and winds up thrown through my ceiling only to end up laying in what used to be my collection of herbal healing potions and salves.”

“I can’t imagine you were too pleased about the damages.”

“Oh trust me I had thought some demon had been stupid enough to try and break down my sigils and was ready to turn them into tea compost,” Y/N scoffed. “Though the moment I realized what, or more accurately, who it was, I just had him return the payment in demon parts that could be salvaged from his fight. I could handle the repairs just fine though the merchandise would need to be replaced somehow. And luckily for him, I’ve been needing some fresh horns, claws and scales.” 

Why does this not surprise me? Vergil thought to himself with a small scoff as he took another swig of his tea to wash down the mouthful of fried egg and toast. Though, all that being said, he almost didn’t want to know how exactly she came to be officially introduced to Dante, knowing all too well of his twin’s foolish antics. “Do I dare ask what _he_ did?” 

“You mean aside from the time he had himself become impaled on my upstairs greenhouse or the time he crashed his motorcycle through my front door?” Y/N asked with a scoff, rolling her eyes while running her finger around the mouth of her mug. “To be honest your brother and I have run into each other more times than he can probably even recall, always having some kind of trouble on his tail while assuming I’m some mere defenseless bystander. But regardless of such shortcomings, by the time we were finally introduced to one another, it had been about three years or so. It was only through Nero that we were _officially_ introduced.” 

Vergil would be lying if he said he was by any means surprised to learn that of course it would be his son that would finally make his idiot twin aware of just who this woman is. Knowing Dante, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had ever tried to foolishly flirt with her shortly after meeting. “What are your thoughts on him, then?”

Hm?” Y/N blinked, somewhat surprised by Vergil’s sudden question. “I guess you could say he’s like a brother to me with how much he drives me up a wall whenever he’s around. Though of course as someone with five older brothers myself, that hardly says much.” 

Vergil found himself nearly choking on a piece of meat when he fully processed that statement. Five older brothers? Who could possibly stand to have that many siblings, let alone children? Vergil could hardly stand to imagine having more siblings beyond Dante, let alone anymore that would be like him either. He was impressed to see the woman was still sane after all these years. “You say that as though that’s some small feat,” Vergil said after taking a swig of tea to try and clear his throat. 

“With a family as messy as mine, you eventually just learn to deal with it and move on. Of course that doesn’t stop from the usual share of family drama springing up like daisies, but when you’re dealing with a family of a powerful witch, there’s hardly any room for trouble not to show up,” Y/N shrugged. “But enough about me and my baggage. Is there anything else you want to know?” 

Where could he even begin? Vergil could already feel his head buzzing with the amount of questions he had regarding witches alone, though there remained to be a small part of him that didn’t want to pry too much into the witch’s life, regardless of her lack of resistance to answering. She had been more than willing to enlighten him thus far, what harm could there be in asking just a few more questions? 

“Is it true what they say about witches?” Vergil asked, attempting to not seem too insensitive in his inquiries. “I’ve heard countless stories about witches drawing their powers from demons they’ve made pacts with.”

“Ah yes, that. Every witch’s favorite past-time. Well, actually, that would be developing personally crafted hexes, gossiping, developing youth potions and Tuesday brunch, but that’s besides the point,” Y/N smirked with a playful wink as she chuckled to herself. “Yes it’s true that a number of witches will make pacts with demons for power, though it’s not only demons they’ll willingly make pacts with. That and even then the actual percentage per the whole population is usually just below half. That and regarding the reason for said pacts.” 

“How so?” Vergil asked, his brow now knitted with intrigue as he leaned in towards the table, his cool blue eyes fully locked on the witch as she continued. 

“Well for starters there are two main types of witches. Those who are _born_ and those who are _made_. Some think the terms interchangeable, but I’ll have you know it’s not as black and white as some would have you think,” she said, positioning the salt and pepper shakers between then with the wave of a finger. “Some witches, such as myself, are able to inherit our abilities from those who came before us, thus being the ones who are born. Some inherit their abilities while they’re young and others may take decades before they first come into their powers. Fortunately for me, I was able to come into mine at a young enough age that it allowed me to have more years to practice my craft and become stronger that way. Because of this innate ability we are also known as being called sorceresses,” Y/N explained, tapping on the salt shaker before moving onto the pepper shaker next to it. “As for those who are made witches…these are typically those who were born without power and are usually normal humans who decided to seek out such power through different means. They might have started out as mere tarot card readers or developing apothecaries who desired more than what they had. And so to compensate for that difference in power, they’ll try to seek out a source to draw from.” 

“And so they make pacts to do so,” Vergil murmured as he rested his chin against his folded hands. 

“You catch on quick, good,” Y/N said, nodding in approval. “Of course this by no means that witches who were born without power won’t also seek out demons and other such potential patrons, but more often than not it’s usually those who weren’t born witches who will go out of their way to try and form pacts.” 

“And what about you? _Do you have a pact?_ ” Vergil asked, his eyes searching for whatever answer it was he was looking to find. The witch’s face seemed to turn neutral and somber, sighing as she leaned back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair. At least a handful of minutes had gone by before she had finally answered, her brows knit in thought. 

“…No, I don’t. To be honest, it’s part of the reason why most of the local covens and I don’t exactly play nice,” she finally sighed, her tone no longer casual and lighthearted. She didn’t dare go into more detail, giving Vergil enough of a sign to no longer press on the issue as Y/N ran a tired hand down her face. “I did have something close once,” she added. “An old mentor of mine left me a small portion of his power to help me protect myself and those who needed my services. Perhaps he knew of the things to come before he left.”

Vergil had begun to open his mouth to ask another question, though was quickly cut off by the chime of a bell that was followed by an all too familiar voice. 

“Hey, Y/N! I’m here with those pieces you asked for!” the voice of Nero called from the front of the shop, causing Y/N’s face to shift from it’s firm expression to what Vergil could swear to be one of relief. 

“Back in the kitchen, Nero,” Y/N called before getting up. 

“Yo! Something smells good! Any chance you saved anything for us?” Nico called as her and Nero came into frame. “Oh man, what do we have here? Certainly didn’t expect to see your daddy shirtless at the table, dude,” Nico said as she turned to Nero, who seemed equally confused to find his father there of all places. 

“What the–? What the hell are you doing here?” Nero asked, cocking his head at the ever shirtless Vergil, only noting the attached IV and bandages shortly after. “What happened to you?” 

“Job went wrong and Dante sent your old man here late last night. And leave him be, Nico. Let the poor man enjoy his meal,” Y/N added as she shooed Nico away from the table as she attempted to snatch a piece of sausage. “Now, you two got some goods for me?” 

“Ah right, uh….here,” Nero said, handing her the bag of neatly wrapped boxes. “Had to wrestle Nico for these, so they’re probably good.” 

“Heh, could have made some good stuff with those,” Nico said. “But I guess I can settle for letting you have them for your stuff too.” 

“I’d sure hope so, missy. Consider it as a nice way to pay me back for the times the two of you decided to raid my fridge without asking,” Y/N smirked as she shook her head. “I have Kyrie’s refill in the back. I’ll go get it in a minute. Though do make sure this one doesn’t try to steal anything,” she quickly added as she pointed at Nico. “I have my eye on you especially, young lady.” 

“I have done nothing wrong in my life ever,” Nico said, earning a scoff from both Nero and Vergil, who was now attempting to redress himself now that he seemed to have given up on his meal. 

“I was wondering why you weren’t at the shop,” Nero said, turning back to Vergil. “It was definitely odd for you to miss morning training practice.” 

Vergil merely sighed at the thought, silently already cursing himself to forgetting such a thing, let alone foolishly having messed up enough to miss such an appointment. The two of them had been training together for a fair bit since Dante and him had returned from the underworld, having decided to try and be more of a present father figure in his son’s life since learning of their connection. Despite his many mistakes and slights that he had caused the boy, he was still determined nonetheless to try and build a connection with what little family and legacy he had. 

“Well, at least you’re alright. You had me worried for a bit that something might have happened. Didn’t help that Dante didn’t bother to offer an explanation other than you were recovering from last night,” Nero added as he took the seat across from him. “Though I’ll admit. It’s a good thing he brought you to Y/N of all people. Couldn’t ask for a better witch and healer. Hell, she’s a pretty damn good cook too,” Nero added as he grabbed a piece of toast. 

“You seem to have a high opinion of this woman,” Vergil mused. 

“Well yeah. It’s kinda hard not to when she’s basically the neighborhood mom who always seems to know what to do. Well, that, and she certainly has no trouble killing demons without any help from Dante or me,” Nero added as he scratched his nose. 

“Don’t forget the time you called her mom,” Nico sniggered, earning an unamused look from the young devil hunter. 

“I-it was just an accident! Nothing more,” Nero yelled, a slight layer of pink dusting his cheeks as he waved a hand in dismissal at Nico. “Quit bringing that up already!” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say mama’s boy,” Nico teased as he pulled a cigarette out of her pocket. 

_“Don’t you dare even think of lighting that in my shop, Nicoletta Goldstein!”_ Y/N yelled from across the shop. “So help me gods, I will turn you into a newt.” 

Nico and Nero merely exchanged surprised expressions as Vergil merely chuckled. 

“Whoa...she really is a witch,” Nico said with a shiver as she sheepishly put away her cigarette. “Must be psychic too.” 

“Nah, you’re just that predictable,” scoffed Nero. 

“Whatever you say, _Mama’s Boy._ ” 

_“Shut it.”_

“Alright, children, calm down, don’t burn down the damn house just yet,” Y/N interrupted as she came back with a bag of bottles in hand. “Alright. Here’s Kyrie’s conditioner, shampoo, lotions and tiger balm jars. I threw in an extra of each since I know she’ll need it. Oh, and, Nico, just because I am psychic doesn’t mean I need to use it to know your habits,” Y/N smirked as she handed the bags to Nero. “Send the lovely lady and the kids my regards.” 

“Thanks, will do, Y/N,” Nero sighed as he began to stand up again. 

“Now if only you’d get around to proposing to her already,” the witch smirked, causing poor Nero to tense up somewhat in reply. 

“I–well, uh, you see– _look, I’m working on it, okay!?_ ” Nero sputtered, his face growing pinker and more flustered by the minute as Y/N merely shook her head and clicked her tongue at him.

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, bambino. I’ll believe it when I see it,” she smirked with a faint chuckle. “Just be sure to do it before I eventually have to do it for you. Now, shoo. I have a shop to clean up soon. Get back to your girl with her goods and don’t make her wait.” 

“Huh?! But–!” Nero began in protest, only to be swiftly cut off as he and Nico were soon let out of the kitchen. 

“You heard me, sweetheart. Now, shoo! Shoo! Andiamo, bambini! Andiamo! Let’s go!” Y/N yelled, clapping her hands as she shooed away the pair along and out the kitchen door. Vergil couldn’t help but find himself smirking in amusement as he watched the petite woman casually push the pair out with ease. He could certainly see what his son had meant when he said she had a certain motherly quality about her, specifically a very Italian mother quality about her. He certainly didn’t mind it one bit if he had to be honest. If nothing else, she was a woman who wasn’t afraid to assert herself as needed. For even the briefest of moments, Vergil couldn’t help but think back to his own mother. Had the two ever met, he wondered if they would if they’d like one another. 

“Ugh, good to finally have these back in stock,” Y/N sighed as she lightly tossed the bag of devil onto the kitchen counter before shifting her gaze to Vergil. “Oh and don’t take out that IV just yet. I still want to check you over before I release you. I swear the last thing either of us needs is to do that stupid thing everyone does when they wake up and tear out their goddamn IV. Like honestly do they even consider the damage that they’re doing,” Y/N groaned, shaking her head in disdain as she quickly grabbed a nearby bandage and medical tape. “Oh and don’t give me any of that ‘but I can heal just fine’ nonsense either. I’ve seen enough idiots with said abilities do it and still get fucked over.”

 _Oh yes, they would get along just fine_ , Vergil noted to himself with a faint smirk as he sipped his tea. He was a grown ass man, let alone half demon, and yet she had no problem becoming that of a scolding mother despite the fact she was rather small while standing at just about 5’4 at most while he easily towered above her at 6’2. He had to wonder if there was anything in this world this woman feared. Vergil knew most humans would surely consider him a monster and an abomination as being a combination of human and demon, and yet this woman acted as though she were merely chatting with an old friend she had simply met for brunch. 

“Alright, and here we go,” Y/N murmured, gently pulling out the needle of the IV after cutting off the tube’s connection and gently bandaging the entry point. “I swear you Sons of Sparda need to be far more considerate of your own well beings. You boys may be durable, but you’re by no means immortal, much less indestructible.” 

“Are you going to next tell me to floss my teeth and eat my vegetables?” Vergil asked, unable to help but tease, his heart slightly fluttering as Y/N merely smiled and laughed, her face little more than inches away from his. 

“My, my, brawn, looks, brains _and_ a sense of humor. Aren’t you just the full package,” she teasingly smirked with a playful wink before gently patting the dark slayer on the face. “Well it certainly wouldn’t hurt you to do so. Not unless you want to get stuck paying my shop another visit sometime soon, though I suppose the company never hurts.” 

“You say that as though you’d like for me to come back.” 

“You haven’t given me much of a reason to not want you back,” Y/N shrugged with a soft grin, “though when you do, try not to become some demon’s pincushion. I prefer my friends and potential customers to at least try to come in one piece. Makes cleaning up so much less of a pain, and magic can only do so much for those ungodly bloodstains. Besides, it’s nice to have a conversation with someone who hasn’t come crashing through my door or roof yet.” 

It was Vergil’s turn to chuckle at the image. “Yet?” 

“Just yet,” the witch winked, “though I suppose I could have worse things come through my shop. It’s not every day a charming devil comes through to enjoy a good book and a nice spot of tea.” The two continued to look into each other’s eyes, almost as though hoping to find some other excuse for the other to try and stay longer, lips little more than a breath’s reach away as the warm light of the sun caressed their features. However, such a moment was painfully shattered and scattered into the wind as the phone from the front desk rang, tearing the pair from their trance, the pair each drawing back from their positions, albeit hesitant at first. 

“I–uh…ahem, I should get that,” Y/N murmured, clearing her throat in an attempt to recollect herself, a barely noticeable of pink that graced the tops of her cheeks having caught the half devil’s gaze before the witch turned on her heel and headed toward the the other room. 

Vergil could feel his heart pounding in his chest, all the while trying to resist the urge to reach out toward the witch as she took her leave. He wasn’t sure what in the world had seemed to have him so unlike his usual composed and controlled self. Even as she had left he could still smell the faintest trail of her perfume that had resonated off of her like the fragrance of a flower, leaving behind the faint yet distinct scent of pomegranate and black berries, causing the half devil’s mouth to water ever so slightly. 

What was it about this woman that had him so wound up about him? He had barely known her a day and already his body was acting strange. Was it the fact she was a witch and this was just a side effect of her magic and charms? Was it simply the remaining poison coming to mess around with his head and senses, causing this almost euphoric high whenever he’d find himself close to her or whenever he’d simply see her smile or laugh? Never before had he come to feel anything like this and although he was by no means used to the feeling, a part of him had yet to resent it despite his attempt at denial. 

Sliding his coat back on, Vergil took a few experimental steps forward, only continuing to walk until reaching the front of the shop, coming just in time to hear Y/N hang up the phone. 

“Feeling up to heading back?” she asked upon noticing Vergil enter the room. “Lemme send you back with a little something for those aches and pains since there’s likely still a bit of leftover venom in your system. I doubt it’s anything too serious, but it can still leave you feeling sore until it’s completely out of your system.” Y/N bent down and reached into one of the nearby desk shelves, pulling out a palm sized jar with the image of a tiger decorated across its front. “Rub this on your muscles and you should be feeling better,” Y/N instructed, placing the jar into a nearby bag before also tossing in a piece of paper. “Oh, and here. This has my number and address in case you ever need to reach me for anything. And yes, that also includes mid-morning tea and brunch.” 

“Are you sure you want a devil at your doorstep?” Vergil asked with a teasing smirk. 

“It would certainly be more entertaining than dusting shelves and patching ceiling holes,” she smirked with a playful wink. “Besides, I like a good challenge. Oh! And before you head out, you’ll be wanting this,” she quickly added, briefly ducking into a nearby room only to come back with Yamato in hand. Though, upon closer inspection, Vergil couldn’t help but notice the small charm that had been woven into its ribbons. 

“What’s this?” Vergil asked as he lifted the blade to examine it a bit more closely, admiring the fine silk ribbon tied with several rune inscribed dark blue beads that gently hung from Yamato ‘s sheath.

“Just a small protection charm I added to help keep demons off your tail for the next day or so while you fully recover. It’ll help cover your scent among other things so you’ll be harder to track. Well, that, and it’ll give your attacks a nice little power bonus if you do get into trouble” Y/N smiled proudly as she ran a hand through her hair. “Just a little something I thought a man of your tastes might appreciate. Consider it as a little gift between new friends.” 

_Friends_. Although Vergil admittedly appreciated the sentiment, there was still that nagging feeling pulling at his chest. Surely just another effect of the lingering poison, he thought in dismissal as he softly shook his head. “Is there anything a woman of your skill can’t accomplish?” 

“Oh I’m sure there’s something. Haven’t quite found it yet, but I’m sure I’ll manage,” Y/N grinned as she leaned against the counter top. “But I won’t keep you here anymore. Hope the tiger balm helps treat you kindly, and should you need anymore or anything else, my door is always open.” 

Despite the nagging voice that pleaded with him to try and find an excuse to stay longer, Vergil was also keen on returning to Devil May Cry, primarily wishing to be able to continue his recovery in the comfort of his own room. He was sure that Dante would have his way with trying to tease him as soon as he’d return, but for once, as he found himself thumbing over and admiring the small protective charm, the thought of Dante’s teasing seemed like little more than a distant and minor issue. Rather, he merely found his mind filled with the thoughts of gentle moonlight and the sweet scent of black berries and pomegranate, all the while so gently wrapped with the gentle melody of her voice. 

All the while blissfully unaware of what fate would have in store for the elder son of Sparda and his bewitching new friend and the eyes that so keenly laid just out of sight.


	3. Judgement and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been over a week since Vergil had last spoke with his bewitching new companion, and amidst a plethora of his own questions, desires to see her again. However, unbeknownst to him, there is a slow and quiet storm brewing in the distance, one that would wish to drag his dear witch into one way or another.

It had been about two weeks since the eldest son of Sparda and the witch had last spoken. It wasn’t as though the son of Sparda had no interest in seeking her out. Far from it in fact, as she ever remained present in his thoughts, lingering about his mind the way the moon will continue to linger regardless as to whether it be day or night. His main problem to be exact was as to  _ how  _ he should go about seeking her out exactly. She had very clearly offered an invitation for him to stop by whenever and however he wishes, and yet there was still something eating away at the half devil as he’d find himself becoming lost in his own head regarding such a plan. 

He had stared at her number that he had so carefully put into the phone that Nero had given him, staring at it for hours on end, and yet not once had he not dared call or text her, unsure of how to approach. Well, this, and he was never quite fully comfortable about speaking indirectly with one another. He wished to be able to see someone’s face and body movements when he’d speak, being sure to try and possibly read them of any hidden motives or anything of the like. And although this witch of his was by no means easy to read, there was always something more that would pull and tug at him whenever he’d watch her, a force he had yet to fully name or comprehend since that first fateful encounter. Even as he tried to tear her from his thoughts, he would always come to think of her in the end, his mind wondering things such as to what it is she might be up to around this time or if she had made that same cinnamon black tea he liked so much. Even now as he examined the carefully crafted protection charm she gifted him, he couldn’t help but think of her. 

Just as she had promised him that fateful day, demons barely seemed to be able to track or sense him as long as he kept the charm on him, and he found his attacks with Yamato to be much stronger than normal. He knew he would surely have to repay her for her kindness and generosity, going so far as to not only heal him and feed him but to also gift him with a piece of her magic as well. The only question now was  _ how _ ? 

“Well, well, someone sure seems antsy today?” Dante chimed in tauntingly from across the room upon noticing his twin’s not so subtle distress, causing Vergil to growl at him in annoyance. “Now, now, princess, no need to be so wound up. Say, why don’t you pay our favorite witch doctor so that she can pull that stick out of your ass?” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me about her sooner?” Vergil finally asked after taking a moment to swallow his anger upon hearing his brother mention the witch. “You’ve clearly known each other long enough for you to be showing up at her establishment at ungodly hours.”

“Hm? Oh that? Guess it just slipped my mind is all,” Dante shrugged, his answer failing to quell the gradually rising annoyance that was building up in Vergil the more he denied him his answer. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you’d be interested to know some random local witch or anything like that. Not that you’ve ever taken much interest in any of my friends before. Didn’t imagine you’d warm up to this one either, but looks like she’s charmed you one way or another apparently.” 

Although Vergil wanted nothing more than to snap at his brother for making such assumptions, there was a painful pang of truth to his statement. Had it not been for that chance encounter, would he still have been interested in seeking her out? Would he still hold the same amount of undeniable interest that continued to dwell and stir within him even now? Or would he have merely ignored her, too caught up in his own interests of becoming stronger? He had no problem abandoning his son after all these years, and although things had changed since then between him and Nero, would he be willing to extend that interest to her as well? 

“Why are you so interested in knowing now anyway? You two have already met and have become well acquainted apparently,” Dante smirked, not bothering to move from his reclined position. “There sure isn’t anything stopping you from going over there and talking to her more yourself, ya know? Or what? Have you suddenly become a bashful school girl all of a sudden because a sexy witch fixes you up? Hey, maybe if you ask nicely enough she’ll make you into a real boy!” 

“You’d do well to watch your tongue, Dante,” Vergil warned in a low tone, already summoning a number of swords to his side, practically ready to strike at any moment. “Lest you wish to become a pincushion yourself.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll back off!” Dante said with a knowing smirk as he raised his hands as a sign of retreat. “You should still visit her, though. I’m sure Y/N would appreciate the company. Can’t imagine those familiars of hers offering that much  _ riveting  _ conversation and it’s not like she can count on Nero to keep her entertained all the time. Even if he does get cookies out of it.” 

“...What are you getting at?” Vergil finally asked with wary eyes. 

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to be able to make a friend. She seems to like your grumpy mug well enough. Even told me to tell you to feel free to stop by whenever you want. Hell, I’d kill for that kind of offer,” Dante scoffed. “Certainly wouldn’t mind having her treat me to her cooking for a change, meanwhile she goes out of her way to make you breakfast and everything.” 

Vergil could feel the corners of his mouth pull into a faint grin, a part of him oddly pleased to hear he was among few to earn such special treatment over his twin. He couldn’t quite pin the source of the feeling and yet at the same time he’d almost dare to admit that he didn’t mind it. While a small part of him was curious as to what made him so special in her eyes, there was another that didn’t think to question it. 

“...I suppose I could use a refill of the tiger balm she had been kind enough to five me,” Vergil softly mused to himself, ignoring his brother’s smug looks, swiftly walking past Dante before heading back up into his bedroom. Despite his best attempts, Vergil found himself struggling to deny any of this unfamiliar feelings that were buzzing about him like a hive full of bees, buzzing with uncertain excitement as he gently lifted the large jar that Y/N had been kind enough to give him last they met. While he arguably had about another day’s worth or so, Vergil was admittedly looking for whatever excuse he could find to take a visit down to that quaint little shop down the road. While by no means would he dare admit he was desperate to see or hear from her again, there was ever that lingering sense of something pulling and tugging at this chest every time she’d come across his mind. 

_ To put it simply, despite his own stubborn denial: the fool was simply spellbound.  _

And regardless of what sense of pride rattled on inside him, it was practically buried by the feelings that overcame him as his cool blue eyes landed on the carefully crafted protection charm that elegantly hung from Yamato’s ribbon. 

He  **_had_ ** to see her again, that much, if nothing else, was absolutely certain. 

The past few days at the shop had been rather uneventful since her run in with the sons of Sparda, leaving her to simply go about her day filling out orders for the past two weeks, not once having heard word from the elder half devil. While she was certain he was no doubt fine and busy, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been hoping to have a visit or even a mere call from him by now. He was charming with a certain familiar air of mystery that intrigued her. His eyes alone told a thousand different tales that she was more than interested in learning, regardless as to what nature they may have fallen into at one point or another. She supposed that was merely part of his devilish charms, but then again, there were some charms that not even the most silver-tongued devils could pull off. 

Though, despite the pleasant simplicity that had been filled throughout most of the week, there was still an underlying thorn in her side that had nonetheless continued to cause far more pain and trouble for her than even the peskiest of demons. It had been the very thing to disrupt her that fateful day when she had found herself so delightfully lost within the half devil’s icy gaze, deciding perhaps all too perfectly to call at that exact moment, knowing she’d perhaps have found herself some newly found delight that she had longed for so long. Not to say she was exactly surprised to hear from them of all people, really. 

After all, the Redgrave City Coven had never been by any means the most pleasant to deal with, and their so called elders were hardly any better. And Y/N knew for a fact that High Priestess Calyssa, one of the five head witches of the city’s main coven, knew that fact better than anyone else. She had always done her best to keep her distance from the coven ever since things had gone down and Y/N had decided it was best for leave. Unfortunately for her, Calyssa and the other matron witches were hardly done dragging her into their schemes, seemingly determined on getting her back into the clutches of the coven. 

After what happened with the Qliphoth tree about three years ago, relations with the coven had been admittedly a bit different than normal. There were more than a few who were willing to overlook past tense relations in exchange for asking for help from Y/N and her familiars, knowing all too well she was by far one of the more capable witches in the area when it came to slaying demons, making her a valuable asset for protecting witches against the demon hoards that were scattered all across the city. Witches were admittedly more at risk than even the most pure humans with witches being essentially most demons favorite meal. According to her mentor and various past studies, Y/N knew that there was something about the magic in witches' blood that made them especially delectable to demons to where some have reported it being almost addicting with the boost in power that a witch’s heart can provide for demons. Though, the best part of the witch was unsurprisingly the heart, which is said to be the source of a witch’s power next to one’s soul with the heart being the closest manifestation to the soul that any demon could easily devour if need be. It was said that one heart from a witch could sustain a single demon for several months at a time, if not longer, depending on how powerful the witch. 

It was for this very reason that witches would often use a sample of their blood when looking for summon and forge pacts with demons; in doing so essentially marrying off one’s heart, soul and very being in exchange for power and protection against enemies, regardless as to whether they be fellow a witch, demon, or worse. However, there are still rules that are established that even demons must follow, and that important law is that no matter what, the bond must, above all else, be consensual to both members. If there is ever a pact that is forced into being without both parties’ consent, there is a grave and powerful price to pay that is brought upon by the balance itself. After all, while the Underworld is by no means a pleasant place, even the demons have rules they must obey, going so far as to affect the princes of hell itself. 

It was for this very reason among many others that Y/N had yet to go forth and claim such a bond herself. She was not ready to be tied down to someone just yet, and she would do anything to prevent that until such an occasion rises on her own terms, regardless of how her former coven and its leaders may feel about it otherwise. 

Y/N was torn from her thoughts as she felt something nudge against her thigh, looking down to be greeted by the whining form of Hecate, the half-hellhound familiar staring up at her mistress worriedly. The witch merely smiled as she shook her head, kneeling down to the familiar’s height as she rubbed her ears and neck. 

“Oh don’t you start getting worried for my sake, sweetness,” Y/N smiled, gently kissing the top of the dog’s forehead. “Keep that up and we’ll both end up going grey by the end of next week. Mama’s gonna be just fine, don’t worry.” 

Hecate merely barked in reply, happily wagging her tail before licking Y/N’s face. Leave it to her familiars to sense her growing dread, though she knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. Their souls were entwined after all, it was only natural for them to pick up on whatever feelings were swirling around inside her with no sign of stopping just yet. Still, despite the familiar’s best attempt at distracting her mistress, the phone call from two weeks ago still resonated in the back of her mind. Although the message had been by no means hostile outwardly, there was something in Calyssa’s voice and tone that had set off a number of bells in the young witch’s mind. 

_ “Hello, Y/N. Now before you hang up on me, I understand we may have not had the best of relations over the years, I wanted to inform you of a meeting the local covens will be holding by the end of the month. There isn’t a witch alive in Red Grave that won’t plan to be there. Who knows, perhaps you might just fulfill that bond and truly become the witch you were meant to be. While I cannot speak for my fellow sisters, I, at least, am eager to see your attendance.”  _

There was something in the message that twisted and turned in Y/N’s stomach at the thought of attending such a meeting. Knowing the type of the events the coven would go to, it would likely be something very big and very fancy, undoubtedly involving deals with whatever elite social circles that have intertwined given their connection to the occult. Y/N could name a book’s worth of all the notable executives and higher-ups in Red Grave that had more than their share of deal making with demons. Hell, it was basically the main economy that many witches would dip into alongside their demonic patron in order to earn a little extra on the side. After all, a human soul was a powerful and desirable thing, and the more you had in your collection, the more you were meant to be feared and respected, even if the witch herself did not have direct access to such a soul. Because of this, Y/N had little doubts said leaders of the Red Grave City coven such as Calyssa had more than her own share of dealings that came with collecting souls for her so-called “partner.” 

“She has a lot of nerve dropping that piss poor excuse of an invitation on me...” Y/N cursed under her breath, already silently cursing out Calyssa and the other witches of the coven. She would have to put up fresh protection and anti-scrying sigils around the house again. The last thing she needed right now was to risk any prying eyes, especially should a certain demonic hybrid family were to drop by in the meantime. The last thing Y/N wanted was for any of them to be dragged into this. The Sparda bloodline had its own share of problems over the years, the last thing it needed was to be pulled into the typical drama between witches and lowkey petty coven hostilities. All the while the witch was too deep in her thoughts to note the faint chime of her shop’s front door bell, much less spot the familiar form of the certain half devil dressed in blue. 

“Is now a bad time?” Vergil asked, catching the unexpecting witch off guard as she quickly turned to face him, eyes wide with a sense of surprised delight. 

“Huh?! Oh--! Uh, no, no, by all means, come in!” Y/N insisted as she waved her hand, motioning him towards the desk. “I was just about to take my lunch break soon, though I must admit I’m rather surprised to see you again. I was beginning to think I had managed to somehow scare you off.”

Vergil merely let out a faint snort at the notion, though not before somewhat awkwardly clearing his throat first in an attempt to maintain his composure, all the while silently trying to dismiss the collection of heat gathering in his cheeks. “My apologies. Between dealing with Dante’s usual nonsense and other things, I merely didn’t wish to pester you with my condition among...other things.” 

“Oh?” Y/N quirked a curious brow at the half devil as she watched him, tilting her head slightly as she folded her arms across his chest. “I hope the tiger balm I gave you at least served its purpose. I’d hate to leave you alone and aching without some of my magic touch to help you out.” Although she seemed to speak with an air of nonchalance, there was no denying the spark of mischief that flickered in her eyes; sparks that would unknowingly ignite trails of heat up and down the dark slayer’s form as he did his best to maintain his composure. 

“You seem confident regarding your magic touch,” Vergil said, unable to help as a smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips. 

“Oh I assure you, while my magic touch may leave you feeling something, soreness is never one of them. A witch’s guarantee or your money back. Not that you seem to be complaining considering there’s barely a dose left,” Y/N smirked as she ran a hand through her long hair. “But enough about that. Why don’t you join me in the sunroom for brunch and tea? The last of the pastries should be out of the oven very soon, and I’d hate to be left to eat them all by myself.” 

“Hmph, well then I suppose then there’s no way I could possibly refuse,” Vergil smirked with a light scoff, his eyes lighting up slightly as he noted the particular scent of chocolate in the air, his mouth quickly watering soon after. 

“Excellent choice. It’s just down the hall at the very back on the right, can’t miss it. I’ll be with you in a bit,” Y/N smirked as she quickly dipped into the kitchen with a slight dance in her step, humming contently to herself all the while. Grabbing the nearby silver platter, she carefully set a pair of decorative porcelain tea cups decorated with the image of ravens flying about onto the tray. With a wave of her hand, she gently organized the teapot onto the tray, all the while carefully pulling out the freshly baked chocolate pastries before placing them carefully into a decorative basket. Before covering them with the blanket, she was sure to sprinkle the tops of the small, palm sized pastries with powdered sugar. She was sure to be particular with her choice of tea blend, aiming for one of her more complimentary teas that she knew would go well with the chocolate, not wanting to overpower the sweetness. Carefully looking over her collection, she settled for one of her simple yet pleasant green tea of Genmaicha, which she knew would serve the sweet milk chocolate with its salty and nutty flavors which add a certain charm to it. 

Upon returning to the half devil in question, she found him curiously looking about the various shelves, his gaze currently looking through her prized collection of gothic literature. He didn’t seem to notice her at first, his cool blue eyes looked on the long list of carefully preserved books. “See something you like?” Y/N asked with a smirk, causing the half devil to give a slight jump in response in finally noting her arrival. 

“You have quite the collection. I couldn’t help but notice your particular interest in Shelley in particular,” Vergil said as he stood by the shelves, half watching the witch through the corner of his eye. 

“What can I say? I have a lot of respect and admiration for a woman who was born of a pair of philosophers, learned how to read and write from practicing on her own mother’s grave, and would eventually make love at said grave,” Y/N smirked with a wink. “Well,  _ that _ , on top of being the mother of science fiction and writing her first novel when she was only eighteen, but that one’s a clear given. Can’t possibly go wrong with Mary Shelley and her collection really. Sure her husband also did some wonderful work, but there’s no matching the prowess that his wife possessed in my book.” 

“Oh? Is that so?” Vergil asked with an intrigued smirk. “Then in that case I suppose you wouldn’t mind reciting one of said works. Other than  _ The Modern Prometheus _ of course.” 

The witch tilted her head and quirked a brow, noting the obvious challenge set before her, yet also far too intrigued to possibly pass it up. She chewed her lip for a moment as she thought to herself before eventually settling on a poem. Setting the tray aside on the nearby table, Y/N stood up straight, ran a hand through her long hair and began to recite the poem in mind. 

**_“_ ** **_I must forget thy dark eyes' love-fraught gaze,_ **

**_Thy voice, that fill'd me with emotion bland,_ **

**_Thy vows, which lost me in this wild'ring maze,_ **

**_The thrilling pressure of thy gentle hand;_ **

**_And, dearer yet, that interchange of thought,_ **

**_That drews us nearer still to one another,_ **

**_Till in two hearts one sole idea wrought,_ **

**_And neither hoped nor fear'd but for the other._ **

****

**_I must forget to deck myself with flowers:_ **

**_Are not those wither'd which I gave to thee?_ **

**_I must forget to count the day-bright hours,_ **

**_Their sun is set —thou com'st no more to me!_ **

**_I must forget thy love! —Then let me close_ **

**_My tearful eyes upon unwelcome day,_ **

**_And let my tortured thoughts seek that repose_ **

**_Which corpses find within the tomb alway._ **

****

**_Oh! for the fate of her who, changed to leaves,_ **

**_No more can weep, nor any longer moan;_ **

**_Or the lorn queen, who, chilling as she grieves,_ **

**_Finds her warm beating heart grow calm in stone._ **

**_Oh! for a draught of that Lethean wave,_ **

**_Mortal alike to joy and to regret!_ **

**_It may not be! not even that would save!_ **

**_Love, hope, and thee, I never can forget!”_ **

Not once did Y/N’s gaze ever leave his, her voice loud and clear and yet filled with a certain charm and smoothness that the half devil unwittingly found himself becoming enraptured with. Her eyes shone with a level of pride that even he had to respect as he keenly watched and listened to her recite each and every word until they were left in the still silence of the sun room where the only noise was the faint sound of wind-chimes and bird songs. Her voice was smooth like velvet and had a certain bittersweetness that was akin to rich dark chocolate. He could barely help but wonder if the lips that spoke those very words held such a keen and tender flavor. 

“It would seem I’ve underestimated you. My apologies,” Vergil said after a moment of silence with a slight bow, earning a soft chuckle from the witch. 

“If you were anyone else, I might have taken offense,” Y/N smirked with a wink as she motioned for him to join her. “But come, why don’t we sit down and eat before the goods get cold.” She watched with a faint smirk as the half devil came to join her at the table, gently setting his sword aside as he carefully took the cup she handed to him, his fingers ever so faintly glossing over her own. She would be lying if she said she did not feel a spark of heat rush through her being, though all the same she did her best to maintain her composure. 

She watched as Vergil carefully raised the teacup to his face, silently admiring the delicate handiwork before giving a curious sniff and sipping lightly. “Mhm...it has a pleasing salty sweet taste. Perfect for something such as these,” Vergil remarked as he tore open one of the rolls, pleasantly surprised by the small pocket of melted chocolate on the inside before popping the pastry into his mouth. “Are you sure you’re not also a baker? It seems only for a witch to also have her own trove of goodies.” 

“Haha, nothing official, but yes, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth for this sort of thing,” Y/N chuckled. “Though I can’t imagine being a witch who sells desserts would look too good in the common eye. Too close to a few dozen fairy tales. I’d hate to have people think I’m trying to fatten them up or some nonsense. Trying real hard not to get the place burnt down anytime soon, but it certainly helps pass the time on the side,” she added with a playful chuckle. 

“Mhm...Well you certainly won’t see or hear such sentiments from me,” Vergil smirked as he dipped another piece of pastry into his tea. “Though, I will admit, as pleasant as this is, it is not my only reason for seeking you out.” 

“Mhm, I figured as much.” The witch nodded as she sipped her tea in thought before gently setting her cup to the side. “I have something of a talent for luring in those seeking knowledge, apparently. It’s been as much a joy as it’s been a royal thorn in my side.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, let’s see...there are those seeking to become wiser for the sake of others. Most of these are people looking to become medicinal herbalists much like myself. Usually looking for things like easy remedies for coughs, rashes, bruises and that sort of thing. But,” Y/N said as she paused, her eyes briefly darkening as her voice took a softer, more somber tone, “there are those who seek such power and wisdom purely for their own self interest. How to hex their so called enemies, how to curse a person into paying them untold amounts of money, or even using it for something as pathetic as mere petty murder purely because they don’t like how someone looked at them. Those, Mr. Sparda, are the kind of people who continue to be a pain in my side. One minute they’ll claim its for righteous purposes, and the next they go off and prove themselves to be no better than some common scumbag with an agenda.” 

“Speaking from personal experience then?” Vergil inquired, tilting his head lightly. 

“Unfortunately, yes, and even worse, most of the time it was never my own personal mess to begin with,” the witch groaned, rubbing her brow before letting out a tired sigh. “Many of the younger coven girls often don’t fully comprehend the power they’re wielding half the time, much less understand the danger in looking to share and teach what they’ve learned themselves. It’s not until they foolishly realize they’ve been used and abandoned that they would end up coming to me, even after I left the Redgrave City Coven.” 

“They’re either incredibly bold or incredibly foolish to try and drag you into their mess,” Vergil replied before finishing off the remainder of his pastry. 

“ _ Ohoho! Trust me _ ! Me being the local lone wolf around here just makes them feel even more inclined to do so,” Y/N scoffed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “They believe that since I’m no longer one of them that they assume I’m above reporting them to one of their high priestesses, especially since they know there’s more than a little bit of bad blood between us. That, and they know I’m more inclined to protect this city and its residents than not. Even if a number of it’s idiotic and supersticious residents do drive me up a wall most of the time.” 

Vergil merely let out a scoff as he shook his head before taking another drink of his tea. “So then, in your opinion, where does that leave me in your eyes?” 

Y/N’s eyes focused on the dark slayer for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought as she delicately traced her finger along the rim of her teacup. A number of seconds had passed before they had become minutes, the two deeply staring into one each other’s eyes before she finally spoke. “I believe more than anything else that you’re a complicated man who’s been a whole mess of complicated things, and in doing so, your own motivations for wanting to learn more are also quite complicated. You want to grow and become stronger, but you also wish to learn and understand. The world is no longer such a simple place of humans and demons as far as you understand now, and as far as you are concerned, you wish to gain a sense of understanding that, if nothing else, may make you less blind than as to how you were before.” Y/N leaned back in her chair, her eyes shifting to the small garden arrangement that sat just outside, the radiant light of the sun giving her the warm visage akin to that of an angel. 

“I won’t lie. I have heard things about you. Both good, bad, and all that which lies in-between. However, I also know that each story has its own share of a limited perspective in the matter. I’ve heard stories from just about everyone associated with Devil May Cry. But,” Y/N said, pausing as she pointed at the dark slayer, “by no means do any of these stories make your own reasoning and perspective in the matter any less important. That said, before I give my final verdict, I wish to hear  _ your  _ reasoning.” 

“Hmph, you don’t wish to purely rely on my own brother’s words? How touching.”

“As much as I like and respect your brother, even I know better than to purely rely on the word of one man alone, regardless as to what his relations to you may be,” Y/N nodded firmly as she grabbed one of the chocolate bread rolls. “Besides, if I were to purely rely on the word of one person alone, I’d still be with the Red Grave Coven.” 

Vergil stared at the witch with wide eyes, his mouth slightly hanging agape as he watched her. Many of the people who had met him in the past had otherwise been wary of him at best, always watching him with uncertain stares, never quite knowing how to approach or deal with him. He had hardly ever once given himself the best reputation between raising not just a demon tower but also raising an entire demonic tree in the human world. He was hardly surprised to hear that she had heard bad things about him, in fact he would have been surprised if he didn’t, yet not once did that stop the surprise that had struck him upon hearing the witch’s words. Although a proud and stubborn part of him would like to dismiss such a claim, there was something in the way she looked at him that made him inclined to think otherwise. 

“You really are an unusual one, aren’t you?” Vergil said. 

“Well I’m a witch, darling, it basically comes with the course,” Y/N chuckled, brushing away a strand of hair from her face with a wave of her hand. “I try to take a page or two from my mentor with this kind of thing, ya know. Try and actually see the bigger picture before deciding to jump the gun. No point in trying to fix something if you can’t understand what broke to begin with.” Although the dark slayer did not reply, the witch could tell him the shift in his gaze that her words seemed to hit harder than she perhaps first intended. “Fortunately for you, when it comes to complicated people with complicated pasts, you fortunately keep good company.” 

She watched as Vergil’s brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and intrigue, almost as though taken aback by the woman’s words, only to sit back in his chair as he gently rested his lips against his knuckle. “So it certainly seems. You by no means seem as simple minded as my brother.” 

“I would certainly hope not, though I’d hardly dismiss your brother as being purely simple either, regardless of our apparent contrast,” Y/N noted as she took another sip of her drink, gaze now locked on the form of the dark slayer as she carefully looked him up and down. “Regardless, I still want to hear your reasoning for wanting to come by since you clearly want to know more.” 

Vergil raised a brow at the woman as he stared at her long before responding, “What do you wish to know exactly?” 

“I won’t ask for your whole story. That’s entirely your business and yours to give on your own time and accord. If you wish to tell me one day, my door is always open. That said, all I wish to know is what it is you’re interested in and why. A fair and simple trade, is it not?” Y/N asked with a gentle smile as she watched him, fingers idly tearing at one of the pastries in her grasp. 

“Mhm...I see. Well, since you seem so inclined to know, it’s as you said so yourself,” Vergil admitted after a moment of thought, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, all the while tracing circles around the corner of his temple. “I find myself in new and unfamiliar territory, regardless of my various travels and studies of both the human and demon world. To put it bluntly, I’m a strange man in a strange place, and more than anything else, I wish to not wander blind in this place.” 

“I see,” the witch nodded as she watched him carefully, noting every little inch of movement that graced her vision as she listened to him speak. From what she could tell, either he was a very convincing liar, or more accurately speaking, he was telling the truth. She had yet to see any reason as to why he’d try and pull a fast one on her, and while most of her had already made up its mind, there was still something tugging at her from the back of her mind. “And? What about your future? What do you intend to make of it?” 

She watched as Vergil’s brow furrowed at the mention of that, his body slightly tensing in response. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, do you intend to follow your current path in working with your brother and son in helping protect the human world as Sparda himself once did? Or, do you intend to fall in line with old habits, old habits being something I know well enough that they die hard. To be perfectly frank,” the witch quickly added as Vergil began to open his mouth in protest, raising a finger so as to allow herself to speak, “as far as I’m concerned, what happened in the past is the past. What’s done is done and there’s no changing the past. I don’t care whatever sins it is you’ve committed in the years that have led up to this. I’m not here to judge you for that. I’m sure there are plenty of other people who will happily do it for me. And while I’m hardly pleased about Nero getting his arm ripped off by his own father for power, I am concerned about what you do for the here and now. After all, the time we get now is a gift to us all in one way or another, so it’s best to not let it go to waste. So for both our sakes, don’t waste what the present has given you for now and the future. I’d hate to add you to the list of fools who have more than wasted their chance for starting over.” 

Vergil remained silent for the next several minutes, staring at the witch with a sharp and precise gaze, all the while unsure of how to respond. One minute he goes from potentially being on trial to the next being told she simply doesn’t care about his past. While a part of him wanted to sneer in discontent and dismiss her, there was a part of him that also saw the value in the witch’s words. She wanted him to be better than his past. She wanted him to be the man he truly was, and not the devil that everyone had more or less thought him to be. 

“There wouldn’t happen to be yet another lesson from your mentor somewhere in there about that,” Vergil scoffed as he sipped his tea, for once finding solas in the salty and sweet aftertaste of the tea. 

“There is, though I didn’t wish to shove it down your throat,” the witch smirked with a soft chuckle. “If you’d like his words, I’ll leave you with this:  _ ‘If all you are is the trauma and the pain that others have put you through, along with the sins you have committed, and fail to produce no other fruit in your time of growth, then at the end of the day, you’ve already lost and proven those who seek to damn us right. _ ’” Vergil stared at the woman, brow still deeply furrowed, though seemingly at a loss of words all the same as he merely resigned to the back of his seat once more. 

“We need to prove that we are more than just the pain and trauma that life has thrown upon us. We need to prove that we are more than the sins and mistakes of our past. If we don’t grow and learn with each and every day, no matter how big or small the growth, if we can’t prove to be more than what people simply dismiss us to be, then that’s all we’ll ever be. Not so long ago I was a scared and pissed off little girl who wanted to destroy her enemies and watch the world burn in the process for all that it had done to me and those who I care for most. Fortunately for me, my mentor helped me realize I was more than just that spiteful and vengeful little girl with a knife,” Y/N whispered as she moved to pour herself another cup of tea. “My mentor was hardly a good man in his past, though because of that, I think it’s the very reason why he was able to help me channel and deal with my pain and to help me be more than my anger and pain. He sees people like you and me as being half finished clay sculptures who have yet to reach their full potential for what they could truly accomplish for themselves. Who else better than to help reform and motivate the spiteful than a man who’s own spite and pain as if it were second nature?” 

“Your mentor sounds like an interesting man,” Vergil replied, “though I have to admit that I must wonder what kind of man he would have to be to have such experiences and wisdom. Was he a witch like you?” 

Y/N let out a faint chuckle as she shook her head. “Not at all, though he’s certainly had his share of witchcraft and the practice to be able to teach it as easily as he did. No, in fact he wasn’t even human technically, although you could say he certainly had the heart of one if nothing else.” 

She watched as Vergil’s eyes widened. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mentor was--”

“Hahah, oh no, no, no, my mentor was by no means the Dark Knight Sparda, though he did apparently know him at one point. Certainly was old enough to train and teach the demon himself,” Y/N smirked as she saw the dark slayer’s composure as it began to unravel with bewilderment and intrigue. “Well, him and my mother of all people. Though being a witch of her caliber, that much is hardly surprising.” 

Vergil blinked at the young woman in a mixture of disbelief and awe as he stared at her. Had he not been holding his mouth against his hand already, he was sure it would have dropped to the floor by now. The witch wagered that it was probably his turn to consider just how much of this was the truth. She had been inclined to tell him nothing but the truth, though as to whether or not he believed her was a completely different matter. 

“...May I ask for his name? This mysterious mentor of yours and possibly where it is this demon resides now?” Vergil asked eventually upon gathering his composure and clearing his throat. 

“The demon world refers to him as Zarius, the Vengeful Huntsman. He’s known to occasionally take the form of a large black wolf surrounded by lightning. I’d say he’s kinda like Trish though he’s from far before her time,” the witch added as she casually sipped her tea, smirking slightly to herself. “Though nowadays he mostly just goes by Zane. As to where he is, however, I’m afraid I can’t say.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“Oh, trust me, I’d tell you if I could. Though I’m afraid he’s not too keen on telling people where he wanders off too once he feels bored enough and decides to go for a walk.” 

“Sounds like a hard man to keep entertained,” Vergil mused. 

“Ohohoho, my dear Vergil, you don’t even know the half of it,” the witch snickered as she shook her head. “I met him through my mother while I was very young since they were apparently old friends. So old in fact she was among the first humans he made friends with long before the demon and human world were split off from one another. At first it had started out as a mere trade in knowledge, but ended up being close friends who made a pact that should she ever fall, he’d look after whatever legacy she’d leave behind.” 

“You said they were friends before the demon world and human world were split, though in order for that to be possible, your mother would have to be...” Vergil began, his brow furrowing as he trailed off, quietly doing the math in his head. 

“Well over two thousand years old? Well fortunately for my mother, she had more than her share of magic and pacts at her disposal to provide such immortality,” Y/N nodded. “Granted she wasn’t truly immortal. While her life force was extended, powers amplified, and her youth was preserved, she was by no means indestructible, even if she did manage to fool many a demon into thinking otherwise.” 

“I take it this mentor of yours was also how she met my father...” Vergil asked, his voice and eyes turn much softer at the mention of the legendary dark knight. Y/N could sense Vergil’s longing in wanting to learn more about Sparda and unconsciously found herself reaching her hand out to him, gently squeezing her fingers around his. 

“I don’t know much as to their exact meeting per say or as to how well they knew each other, though when going through my mother’s old collection of notes and having listened to Zane’s stories, I do know there was a chance they both knew your mother as well,” Y/N added with a gentle sigh. “Given my mother’s reputation, she had something of a habit with making deals and favors with various demons. Most were only short term like offering a piece of their power or life force, or even promising knowledge in exchange, though supposedly such was not the case with Sparda. He was different in his epiphany in wanting to side with humanity, and my mother admired that spark in him I guess. Not that I’d ever blame her for that. It’s hardly easy to go your own way and fight against a tradition you’ve known for so long...” Although she likely wouldn’t admit it herself, there was something of a somber expression in the witch’s eyes as she turned her gaze toward the window of the sunroom, staring off as though looking for something unseen. 

It was the witch’s turn to be surprised as she felt her hand be squeezed in return, pulling her from her thoughts as she turned back to Vergil with a slight look of surprise before smiling gently at him. There was something unspoken in the way they looked at one another, almost as though expressing something that words alone could not quite comprehend as the warm orange light of the run illuminated their figures. Although both wanted to say something, there was a certain solace in the knowing and comforting silence that followed between them. The faint sound of wind chimes and birdsong quickly filled the silence, yet neither one dared to speak, instead merely wanting the feeling to continue for just a moment longer. 

“There is one last thing I wish to know regarding your mentor,” Vergil said, finally breaking the silence after an hour or so had passed and the pair had started to clean up. “If you don’t have a pact, and yet there is something I’ve noticed since being around you. I’ve sensed the presence of another demon around here time and time again, and yet I also know you have no pact. Why is that?” 

Y/N paused as she was in the middle of finishing off the remainder of the tea that had been in her cup, shooting it back with ease. She paused for a moment in thought, looking at the nearby cherry blossom outside as a pair of squirrels raised up and down its trunk. “After I left the Redgrave City Coven and knowing how I felt about pacts, my mentor had decided to leave me with something. One final gift before he’d be gone for who knows how long. He knew I’d rather die than be forced into a pact with anything, demon or not, but he also knew the value of such ties when it comes to the essentialness of a witch’s magic. So, to compromise, he left me with something.” Y/N waved her hand and muttered a faint incantation in what Vergil believed to be Latin, watching with curious eyes as a crackle of ice and lightning sparked from her fingertips. As Y/N moved her hand, they both watched as she manipulated the shocking colds with ease, eventually forming a frozen figure that had an aura of lightning. He carried a long, dual-bladed scythe of sorts that was also covered in lightning. From what Vergil could tell, this was likely the demon that she spoke of. 

“Being as old and as powerful as he is, Zane knew he had power to spare, and in doing so, left me with a piece of it. By no means is it a permanent solution, but it was the best solution that we had without forcing ourselves into a pact. He still checks in on me and will resupply me when he can, though we both know this could never be a permanent solution,” Y/N sighed as she waved her hand again, causing the small electric statue to dissolve into a cold mist as the lightning faded shortly after. “Not until I find myself a better solution.” 

“And you believe you’ll find it outside of the coven?” Vergil asked. 

“I certainly didn’t find it when I was with them. They certainly had no problem disregarding my wishes to not bind myself so easily,” Y/N scoffed bitterly as she shook her head, brows knit in frustration. “I’ve done untold amounts of studying and training in the meantime, getting stronger on my own where I can, but--”

“But it’s still not enough, is it?” Vergil asked, already knowing all too well of the struggle she spoke of as he looked at her long and firm. “They tell us that we can be strong on our own, and yet they never quite fully comprehend just how hard such a battle truly is, do they?”

“Hah, of course not. No one would truly understand until they lived it themselves,” Y/N chuckled bitterly. “It’s part of the reason why I stayed with him for so long. He could have an entire demon army behind him with who he used to be and yet still chose his own path to become stronger on his own right...just like my mother did....and just Sparda eventually did, too.” Y/N couldn’t help herself as she gave a bittersweet smile at the thought, running a hand down her face before tightly gripping the silver dining tray.  _ A pity that only one of you still remains.  _

“It’s never easy to go your own path,” Y/N sighed as she began to move towards the kitchen, her back now turned to the dark slayer in an unconscious attempt to hide the bitter tears welling up in the backs of her eyes that burned and cursed out to her to be allowed to fall. Unfortunately for them, they would not be allowed such a chance. “What is it they always say? The wolf that remains alone is always the first to die?” Y/N nearly felt herself as her boot heel became stuck, nearly causing her to fall had it not been for the strong and sturdy pair of arms that was quick to grab her, pulling her and the tea set back just in time before either had the chance to fall. 

“Who says this wolf must continue to remain alone?” Vergil asked, his voice soft and low as he spoke into her ear, his breath warm against her cool skin, causing sparks to go frantically running up and down her spine. 

Y/N was generally not an easy woman to fluster, and yet this single man had all but shattered whatever stubborn layer of ice that had been keeping them apart. To say she was more than a little taken aback was an understatement, her face more than clearly flushed with heat as she slowly turned to face his, eyes blinking in a mix of awe, surprise and longing the more she felt his hold on her. By no means was his touch repulsive or abusive, rather, he was surprisingly gentle in his firmness, holding on just enough to keep her right and steady. All the while it seemed to provide a gentle warmth in his touch that seemed to draw her in the more he held onto her. Had it not been for her own pride, she’d have asked him to hold her for even just another moment longer. 

“I--uh-- _ ahem _ ...thank you, Vergil,” Y/N muttered before clearing her throat and readjusting herself, undoubtedly aware of the amount of heat that was filling her face upon realizing just how close he was. Taking in the closeness of his face allowed her even the faintest taste of a spirit she had not tasted in years, only to leave her with a yearning for another taste of that drink until nothing remained. Had it not been for her own stubborn pride, she might have allowed for him to drink her up instead. That was at least assuming she wasn’t too busy considering the half devil’s statement. 

“Here, allow me to take those,” Vergil offered as he helped the witch to her feet, who still remained half frazzled as she blinked at him. 

“Wha--?! Oh, no, please, I’m your host, you should leave this to me,” Y/N insisted. 

“Perhaps, but you’ve already gone through the effort of making and serving me two delicious meals now. As much as I appreciate you doting on me, it’s only fair I return the favor,” Vergil replied with a teasing grin. “Though perhaps I should be doting on you instead.” 

“Careful, Mr. Sparda, this kitty may be small, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t also have claws,” Y/N replied coyly, earning a laugh from the dark slayer, who managed to slip the tray out of her arms with one hand as he ever so gently grazed his hand against her lower back, earning a faint squeak in response. “Though if you really want to play dirty, I’d suggest not getting so close when you do it. I’d hate for you to get burned.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Vergil teased with a sly grin as he stepped around her. “I’m nothing more than a perfect gentleman, I assure you, Ms. L/N.” 

_ Oh you’re a perfect something alright, handsome,  _ Y/N silently scoffed as she shook her head, folding her arms across her chest as she followed after him, the heels of her boots lightly clicking against the tiled floor as she followed after him. “Does the gentleman come with a cleaning service as well? Because I have plenty of demon stains that need scrubbing if you really want to return the favor that badly, and I really don’t feel like getting on my knees if you catch my drift.” 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were proposing otherwise,” Vergil smirked, gently setting the now empty basket aside as he began to fill the remaining tray and tea set into the sink. 

“I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to,” Y/N hummed coyly, running a hand through her long hair as she fluttered her eyelashes at the dark slayer. “We’re just two friends enjoying a lovely afternoon with some perfectly harmless banter.” 

“Ah, yes, of course, my mistake,” Vergil softly mused as he shook his head. Although he merely brushed the comment aside with ease, by no means was there any way in dismissing the sensation that pulled at his heart upon being called “friends” once again. He did not know the cause for it, though he knew for certain that he did not like how it refused to leave him. He chastised himself for needlessly feeling such nonsense. They were here for a simple brunch meeting between friends, nothing more, nothing less. They had barely known each other for more than two weeks, and yet even still he found that bittersweet taste never once leaving his mouth as he scrubbed and cleaned away at the cups and kettle. 

Any notice that the witch might have had in the moment, however, was not there as her gaze remained elsewhere, this time looking past the kitchen doorway and out into one of the display windows towards the front of the shop. Although she would have liked to have been able to have dismissed the familiar flicker of shadow she had seen as being nothing more than a passing stray cat or piece of trash, there was a part of her that screamed at her to remain fully alert. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on their ends as her eyes remained on the windows, searching for even the tiniest movement of the all too familiar form that she had spotted. A part of her wished it to be nothing more than another demon she could easily dispose of at the flick of her wrist, but she knew all too well that such a thing would never dare come this close to her shop. 

Not without a very distinct purpose. 

_ I’ll have to send Hecate and Jupiter to make their rounds again. Maybe send Horus with them while I’m at it,  _ Y/N thought, her nails digging into her arms as bits of frost began to form around her. Despite her connection to her mentor’s demonic power, she always found her magic always turning that to frost and ice. Her mentor had always teased that it was because she was always such a cold and icy person, even if she did seem to give her exterior a much warmer appearance. According to some of her old colleagues among the Red Grave coven, her scorn was supposedly colder than the ninth circle itself. 

“You’ll have to give me some of your tea blends at some point,” Vergil said as he spoke up, likely having noticed her unusual sudden silence and rather tense exterior. “I’d hate to have to deal with my brother’s dull choice in coffee before my next visit.” 

Y/N merely blinked in surprise before noticing the ice forming around her fingertips, quickly trying to dismiss the magic before dashing to one of the nearby cupboards. “In that case, allow me to send you home with a little something extra!” Y/N smirked as she pulled out a couple packets of various teas before putting them into a small bag. “Oh, and here! This is for you and Dante. I know that idiot won’t buy anything other than pizza and ice cream sundaes, so consider this a nice little palate cleanser for the next few days.” Reaching into the fridge, the witch pulled out a large rubber container, pulling off the top to reveal what Vergil would have considered to practically be a gourmet meal despite its simple yet charming appearance. Not that it was hard to be considered gourmet when compared to cheap, greasy pizza “It’s just a simple pasta bolognese dish I made the other night. I’d have Nero bring this down, but since you’re here, I’m sure a big, strong, capable demon slayer such as yourself can handle this just fine.” 

Vergil took the meal and bag of tea with ease, though looked at the witch with suspicious eyes. “You really are determined to have one on me, aren’t you?” 

Y/N merely chuckled as she “innocently” shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a small Italian woman who likes to cook and feed charming cambion men and their idiot brothers who can’t be bothered to get better food. Though if you really want to pay me back, I’m sure I can find some use for you.” 

Vergil couldn’t help but notice the certain smoothness in her voice upon that last part, but merely scoffed as he shook his head. At this rate, this little dance of theirs would never end. Well, not that it mattered since neither one of them seemed to want it to anyway. After all, what was the harm if it meant he could be beside her more often? Though at this rate, he would certainly need to get more creative with his “favors.” 

The pair were almost reluctant to part as they stood by the entrance door, both leaning against the doorway with their faces little more than mere inches apart. She would love for the dark slayer to stay longer, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with him if given the chance. However, she was also all too aware of the situation at hand, and the sooner she got him out of there, the sooner she could get him away from the lingering prying eyes that she knew all too well was lingering just out of sight. The last thing she wished for her new companion was for him to become entangled in their conniving and prying web. If sending him away sooner than desired meant protecting him from the coven and their infernal partners, then so be it. 

“A shame you won’t be joining us for dinner. It’s not every day I get such  _**bewitching** _ company,” Vergil teased with a playful smirk, earning a suppressed snort from the witch. 

“I hope you know if you were anyone else I’d stab you for that pun,” Y/N replied, failing entirely to hide the amused smirk on her face. 

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not anyone else. Not that you’d get the chance to come close to stabbing me anyway,” Vergil teased. “Though I suppose you could always try.” 

“Careful, big boy. You may be handsome and by all means charming, but don’t think I won’t make you my pin cushion, especially since you seem so keen on challenging me lately, “ the witch warned with a dangerous grin. “Be careful what you wish for, Vergil. You might just end up biting off more than you can chew.” 

“Then I happily await to see you prove me wrong once more,” Vergil replied with a soft snicker. “Now, please excuse me while I go feed my poor excuse of a twin. I can’t imagine he was up to anything good in my absence.” 

“As if that’s anything new, but do take care, my dear. I’d hate to lose my new favorite brunch friend so soon,” Y/N smiled, the word friend once again tugging at the half devil’s heart all too happily. 

Muttering a soft laugh and farewell, Vergil eventually left the witch’s side, occasionally giving her form a few glances from the corner of his eye, never once missing the content smirk that remained ever on her face until the dark slayer was far from view. It was only after she was sure that he was gone that the witch’s face turned cold and grim, standing firm with a glare that could kill as she closed the door behind her and locked it. However, it was not without first inscribing a sigil on the front door’s sign. To mere ordinary humans, there was nothing there but a pretty sign with strange lighting. 

But to any passing witches or demons, it was a cold and bitter warning that simply read: 

**_“Beware all who dare enter._ **

**_The She-Wolf will not hesitate to kill.”_ **

_ The coven was watching her, and if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that the brewing storm of war was well on its way, and come hell or high water, she would be ready for it.  _


	4. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several visits of tea and sweets with his dear witch, Vergil can't help but notice the sense of trouble brewing in the distance, only to be drawn in by the sound of a hauntingly familiar melody and the taste of bittersweet spirits.

The past week or so had been a bittersweet dream for Vergil. He had found an undeniable solace in his trips down to the witch’s quaint little shop. Between the relaxing tea blends and pleasant meals that she’d send with him, Vergil had slowly come to become more and more pleased with their arrangement. She had even started to recommend a wide variety of books that she thought he would come to enjoy. However, despite that pleasant sweetness of milk and honey, there was something else that had been stinging at his side during these visits. 

Although she never brought it up in conversation, Vergil could tell there was something wrong. He had sensed it since that fateful day since he had left that fateful tea date. He had felt the unseen eyes that had been watching him like a hawk upon both entering and exiting the shop numerous times now. He had been secretly scouting the area in search of said eyes, and although he had seemingly come close to tracking down said stalkers, the best he could find were a number of odd symbols about the area and unusual clusters of birds that would seemingly watch him for hours until he’d duck inside a building. He had yet to voice said concerns to her, though a part of him guessed she likely already knew of said signs. 

He had been trying to think of a way that he could perhaps try and protect her from these potential threats. He knew she could probably defend herself and that she was a more than capable witch from what he could sense from her, though there was always still something that nagged at him to stay by her side and defend her. Perhaps it was nothing more than a strange sense of wishing to return the favor of her saving his life, perhaps it was something else. Either way, Vergil was determined to defend her from whatever this unseen threat was. Now the only question that remained... _was how?_

Even as he sat across at her table, enjoying yet another one of their mid morning chats, the question remained heavy on his mind as he watched her fiddle about with the kettle before pouring it into a pair of tea cups. There was a pleasantly floral scene this time, though from it’s amplified calming effect that it seemed to have, he assumed it was likely one of her more magical blends. She seemed in a much more mellow mood compared to normal, simply letting out a faint hum of a tune oddly familiar to him as she moved about. It was nice to see her less stressed and not constantly looking about with a notably tense expression in her eyes. Though, it did little to wipe away the still lingering sense of unease in the air that was akin to that of a fair day before a storm. 

He had noted an amplification in a number of the sigils and runes she had about the place, feeling more of the power from the demon she had spoken of. Now that he could concentrate on its presence more, Vergil could finally begin to comprehend the sheer power of such a demon. Was this the kind of power his father once wielded back in his prime? Hell, could Mundus even match up to such a foe if they ever met, and if so, how did he come to survive? Y/N had said she had only been strengthened from him by a quarter or so more than normal, though even then the shift in noticeability for the cambion, almost causing him to go on full alert as he had neared the shop, almost expecting a fight to show up at any moment. Though, that said, he also did notice that demons seemed to avoid the place like the plague, almost as though they feared it and could sense the sheer power that such a demon would wield. Just who was this mentor of hers? And how could he have come to have amassed this much power to where its loss would barely be noticeable? 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Y/N asked as she handed Vergil his cup, casually levitating a plate of decorative cat shaped sugar cookies over to the table. 

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing,” Vergil replied as he took the cup, inhaling a small whiff before letting out a pleased sigh. “Just thinking about those runes of yours.” 

“Hm? Oh, are those distracting you? I hate for them to pester you but I’ve been having a slight pest problem lately and needed to amplify them a bit,” Y/N replied, running a hand through her hair with a faint sigh. “Nothing Hecate and the others can’t handle, though I can’t exactly have them in more than one place at once.” 

“You could have simply asked Dante or me to deal with them for you.” 

“True,” Y/N nodded as she leaned back, fingers playing with one of the cat shaped cookies. “But I also know you boys have also hit your momentary busy season at the moment, so much so that even Nero seems to be working full time these days.” 

“Perhaps...but I see no trouble in making time for you,” Vergil suggested as he took a sip of his tea, earning a small chuckle from the witch. 

“Perhaps indeed,” Y/N chuckled softly as she shook her head. “Don’t worry too much about me, handsome. I’ve been managing by myself for this long. I think a big girl like myself can handle a few pesky demons and then some.” 

Although Vergil couldn’t quite place the cause, he could sense a slight pang of pain in her from her bittersweet laugh, her eyes seeming to briefly flicker from their usual clever brightness, almost as though giving him a taste of whatever darkness seemed to be hanging over her. He could feel his grasp tighten around his cup before forcing it to relax, not wishing to shatter the lovely cup that she had given him. The decor this time was of a lone howling wolf in front of a full moon. An ironically fitting choice given her recent almost distant, lone-wolfish behavior as of late. She’d never outright push him away, per say, though there was definitely something getting in the way of her speaking out about what was weighing down her. Something that Vergil found himself unable to just ignore despite even his best attempts, regardless of how many times she seemed to swear that everything was apparently “fine.” 

This of course carried on for about another week with little progress being made in figuring out the source of whatever weight was hanging on his friend. Though, the more that he had come to think about it, the more his mind began to think back to all that they had talked about. The biggest out of all of them was the mention of the Red Grave City Coven. She had mentioned there being more than their share of bad blood between them due to Y/N refusing to create any sort of pact. Though, would that be enough to create the level of hostility and tenseness he had been feeling lately? Surely they can’t simply be pestering her still purely because she didn’t wish to conform to their will? Whatever it was, it didn’t sit well with Vergil, causing a rather unpleasant knot to form in the pit of his stomach with each passing day. 

Vergil was lost in his thoughts when the faint sound of a lone violin stole him from them, causing him to slow his pace as he tried to find its source. He had seen a few lone musicians in the city from time to time, though he was curious as to why one would dare be out playing at this late, the sun having long since set over the horizon. There was something almost otherworldly about it’s melodic tune, causing him to turn in the direction in which the music seemed to be coming from. He felt it piercing through his very soul, calling to him like the haunting call of a siren’s song. 

As he followed the music he noticed a number of gathering demons towards an abandoned building that had been left and run down from the destruction of the Qliphoth. They all seemed to be caught up in some trance-like state, walking towards the source of the sound like moths blindly approaching a flame. Vergil could tell for certain now that this was no ordinary music with the way these demons seemed almost pacified, caught up in this strange melodious spell. Vergil stopped as he noticed a petite figure cloaked in shadow standing atop the building’s roof, all the while playing a violin that seemed to emulate this hypnotic melody. 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed in thought as he tried to get a closer look at the figure, hoping to get a glimpse of this mysterious musician. He had attempted to move closer, moving between alleys as the demons seemed to pay little mind to him. It was as though he was never there to begin with. There was an odd sense of familiarity to this haunting tune, and yet he failed to exactly place the name of it. It came with a certain flow that seemed to come naturally, so painfully familiar it infuriated him at its lack of clarity seemed to ever elude him. 

He had never heard of music having such an effect on demons. Was this perhaps another example of the magic that Y/N had spoken to him about? Would there be such a way to intertwine music and magic? And if so, just who was this person? Was this perhaps one of the members of that coven she had previously mentioned before? And if so, what were they doing hypnotizing demons in the middle of night? 

Unfortunately for Vergil, despite his attempts to get close to the figure, it turned out to be much more difficult than he had first surmised. Whoever this person was, they were very quick and nimble, and seemed to be able to escape his sight the moment he came anywhere close, seemingly blinking out of existence as soon as the demons were close enough, only to be slain minutes later with summoned blades of ice that danced in the air in synch with the melody. Vergil would be lying if he said he wasn’t more than a little curious in learning the identity of this witch now that he had seen the kind of things they were capable of. He’d play their little song and dance for now, though either way he’d see to it that he’d come to learn their face eventually. 

In the few moments he did get a look at that, he’d note the way their rather petite form, standing no higher than maybe a little above five foot, moved in a way that was akin to that of a waltz, almost as though dancing along to their own haunting melody. He’d watch as different pitches and notes seemed to have differing effects ranging from charms to freezing and lightning to even what Vergil could have sworn to be some kind of binding spell to keep the demons in place as the blades of frost and lightning would skewer them in twain. He’d be lying to say he wasn’t impressed with the amount of skill and precision this witch seemed to possess. 

“Just who are you...” Vergil muttered under his breath as he watched them from afar, now standing on one of the nearby building roofs. He stood no more than a roof away from them at this point, watching closely for a chance to perhaps knock that cloak from their figure. However, such a chance was never needed as a cluster of pyrobats appeared, getting a bit too close to the mysterious violinist despite their best attempts to keep them off. Vergil’s eyes widened as a blast of fire was headed their way from behind them as the figure remained distracted from the other four in front of them. “Move! Now!” Vergil yelled, quickly unsheathing Yamato before slicing the demon in twain, slices of Judgement Cut slicing the pyrobats within seconds, and unbeknownst to Vergil, the stranger’s cloak along with it. 

“Fucking hells bells!” A familiar voice yelled as the violin shrieked to a halt. 

Vergil blinked in surprise as he froze before turning to the figure, eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N?” He called, sheathing Yamato as he stared in bewilderment. 

As pieces of the cloak fell away, the form of the witch began to come into view, busy brushing herself off with the strange violin still in hand. Now that Vergil was much closer now, he was able to note its strange design, noting the intricate and otherworldly design of the dark wood that was akin to a deep crimson with traces of black and silver into it. The matching bow seemed to have an unusual shimmer to it, almost as though its stringer were imbued with frost. 

“Sweet Hecate’s fiery tits! For a moment there you were going to slice me into chunks! Let alone rip off my poor clothes,” she laughed, running a hand through her hair as she turned to face him. “Certainly wasn’t expecting to see you of all people at this time.” 

“Funny, I could say the same for you,” Vergil said as he raised a brow at her, arms folded across his chest, attempting to act as though he hadn’t heard that previous bit. “What exactly are you doing out here, Y/N? And what is that strange violin? I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Paganini? He’s a devil arm used to amplify my magic via music of course,” Y/N replied casually as Vergil tilted his head curiously. “What? Never seen a violin devil arm before? And here I thought devil arm instruments were more common than not.”

“I’ve only ever seen a guitar that Dante used to wield, though I’m sure he’s sold it by now,” Vergil scoffed as he approached her. “Though I must say it’s oddly fitting to name it Paganini of all things. Fitting to call it after the violinist who sold his soul to the devil.”

“Haha, I thought so too. Though you can send such regards to my mentor seeing as how he’s the one who made it. Finest devil arm smith around,” Y/N smirked as she began to walk over to the nearby violin case before tucking it away and closing the lid. “Although I suppose Miss Goldstein could be a potential close second to some extent in a couple more years.” 

“ _Perhaps_...Though you have yet to answer my first question,” Vergil noted as he drew closer to her, the pair now little more than inches apart. 

“What? Never seen a witch go hunting for ingredients before?” Y/N smirked. “I can’t exactly have you boys on speed dial all the time because I’m low on stock.” She lifted the case and threw it over her shoulder, her heels clicking faintly across the floor as she looked up at him with a playful grin. “So, why are you up and about this late, Mr. Cold and Brooding?”

“ _I_ ** _do not_** _brood_.” Vergil growled with a small huff. 

“Mhm, I don’t know, ice king. Your resting bitch face begs to differ. But don’t worry. I find your chilliness charming all the same,” Y/N teased with a wink as she stepped around him, slowly walking towards the edge of the roof. “I gotta admit. It’s a nice night for a song and dance. Maybe throw a glass or two of some wine. It would be a shame to have it go to waste.”

Vergil tilted his head in surprise at her upon hearing such a statement, not quite sure of what to make of it. “Just what are you implying, Miss Y/N?”

“Hm? Oh nothing,” she smirked with a chuckle as she turned on her heel to face him. “Just saying it’s rare for two people to be able to enjoy a nice night like tonight. That, and it would be a shame for the wine in my liquor cabinet to go untouched, if you catch my drift.” 

Vergil couldn’t help but smirk at the offer as he let out a soft chuckle. He hardly saw the harm in indulging in such things, though he was sure Dante would be keen on giving him more than his share of foolish chatter in trying to figure out why he took so long to get home. Besides, he was keen on learning more about what it is his witch was hiding from him. Perhaps some shared spirits will get her lips loose and talking. 

“Well?” Y/N said with a curious smirk as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Don’t tell me the eldest son of Sparda is feeling a little intimidated by a bottle of spirits.” 

“Nonsense,” Vergil scoffed as he straightened out his back. “By all means, lead the way.”

“Excellent. Drinking is so much less depressing when you can do it when someone.” With the snap of her heel, twirl of her wrist and sparking snap of her fingers, a pale blue and silver portal opens before them, Y/N motioning for Vergil to move forward. “Age before beauty.” 

Vergil merely let out a snort as he rolled his eyes and stepped inside. The world around him shifted and changed in hues of blues and silvers before the world of the shop formed around him, a faint chill lingering around him as he moved further into the shop. 

“Interesting...” Vergil muttered as he looked about, noting the faint scent of pomegranate and rich chocolate that lingered in the air around him. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve that I don’t know about?” 

“This and many more I’m sure you’ll eventually learn about,” Y/N smirked with a chuckle, the portal closing behind her with a wink, her form shimmering with hints of blue and silver. “Unfortunately for you, a good gambler never reveals her hand until the end.” 

“Not even for a peak?” Vergil asked. 

“Not unless you have something of equal trade to share with me instead. We witches do love our share of knowledge.” 

“And knowledge is power,” Vergil added with an approving nod. 

“You catch on quick. Good. Makes my job easier,” the witch smiled with a hum as she placed the violin case behind the counter before dipping behind an ornate screen depicting a pair of wolves surrounded by blue flames. When she comes back, in one hand she has a fine ornate bottle with a dark red liquid and a plate of chocolate covered pomegranate seeds. “Been meaning to drink up this bottle of Merlot for a while now. Good to see I’ll have some charming company to enjoy it with.” 

“I thought I was a frigid king of ice?” 

“A chillingly _charming_ king of ice, thank you,” Y/N countered with a wink. “Don’t worry, handsome, I’ll make sure you don’t cause the town to freeze over.” 

“Do you promise to thaw me out if I do?” Vergil asked with a quirked brow. 

“Oh I’m sure I’ll find some way to warm you up, if that’s what you’re asking,” Y/N teased as she brushed her hand down the front of her shift, straightening out the pentagram design at the top of her chest before popping a seed into her mouth. With the flick of her wrist a pair of wine glasses glide through the air before landing before the two of them as Y/N uncorks the bottle. “I was almost half tempted to give this to Nero and Kyrie as an eventual wedding gift, though with that kid I was afraid this bottle would go bad before then.” 

“You sound doubtful of him. Do you not think he’ll work up the nerve to ask her?”

“Mhm...yes and no,” the witch replied as she paused in thought as she poured a glass. “It’s much less a question of **_if_ ** and more so **_when_ **more than anything else. He has a good heart, though he has a bit of a problem when it comes to hesitating. I love the guy as if he were my own son, though that’s not to say he doesn’t drive me mad when it comes to this sort of thing,” Y/N admitted with a sigh as she poured the second glass. 

“Have you always held such feelings for him?” Vergil asked as he examined a chocolate covered seed. 

“Well it certainly didn’t take long for me to become attached to him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Y/N shrugged as she corked the bottle. “He’s a good kid and as experienced as he is as a hunter, there’s still so much that he has yet to learn, and I want to help him however I can.” 

Vergil could feel a slight swell of ease in his chest as he found himself faintly smiling. There was something comforting in knowing there was a distinct bond between Y/N and his son, knowing that if nothing else, at least Nero would have someone decent to guide him on his way. “It’s quite noble of you to want to take him under your wing.” 

“Hah, yeah well it helps when you relate to someone like that,” Y/N chuckled softly as she shook her head. “I never had too many friends growing up, and when I did, they helped keep me grounded more than ever. That, and I never exactly had my own parents around to show me the way either. A certain shared unity with a lack of present fathers.” 

_Ah yes, I had a feeling she was going to bring that up,_ Vergil thought to himself with a small wince as he took a sip of his wine, enjoying the fruity smoothness of the wine to combat the notable verbal burn stinging at his side. 

“Still, I’m glad to see his is at least trying to show more of a direct interest in him and their relationship,” Y/N added before popping another pomegranate seed in her mouth. “It’s more than most deadbeat fathers can say when it comes to this sort of thing.” 

_I’m not sure what’s more deadly, her magic or her words._ Vergil wordlessly noted as he watched her carefully. “I take it things aren’t exactly well with your own father?” 

“Hah! Oh trust me, sweetheart, that’s one drama I’ll happily spare you from. Trust me. You don’t want to get involved with that mess,” Y/N snorted as she sipped her wine with a hum. “Though I doubt that’s what you’re really interested in learning. In fact, tell you what,” Y/N said as she leaned against the countertop, “let’s play a game, shall we? You ask a question, I ask a question. Sound like a fair trade?” 

Vergil paused for a moment in thought as his brow furrowed, his fingers lightly swirling the wine glass in his hand as he stared at the witch in thought. What could she possibly wish to know from him? More importantly, what exactly did she already know from Dante or Nero? How much had they told her of him and his past? And regardless of the answer, just what exactly could he have that would interest her of all people? And even if he told her, what would she even do with that kind of knowledge. 

“...What do you want to know?” Vergil asked somewhat warily. 

“That all depends on you,” Y/N said with a soft smile as she leaned against the counter. “So, you in or not?” 

With a small huff and a large swig of wine, Vergil finally nodded in reply. “Very well, Miss Y/N. I’ll play along.” 

“Excellent! Now, go ahead and ask your first question,” she said, casually popping another piece of fruit into her mouth. 

“...When did you learn to use that devil arm of yours?” 

“Paganini? Well, I’ve had him for a while now that you mention it. I’d say ever since I was about maybe seventeen or so, I guess? Zane gave him to me as something of a graduation/birthday gift for mostly completely my training at the time. Been using him to help expand the reach and power of my magic ever since,” she replied with a slight shrug. “What about you? How long have you had Yamato for?” 

Vergil found himself staring down at the weapon with a heavy gaze, his thumb running over the finely carved runes that elegantly hung from its handle. How long had it been since he had first received Yamato from his father? The farthest he could truly remember was the day he learned he would one day inherit it, this being one of the very few remaining memories Vergil had of his father before he would eventually disappear without a trace. Despite it all, it seemingly had been his one true companion through it all at the end of the day, always being the one who’d remain by his side when all else had been lost. He had even felt an odd sense of relief and peace to have retrieved it again, although it did little to ease what guilt he would eventually feel for tearing off his own son’s arm, only to leave him in a bloody and traumatized state there after. It was certainly there for him on that fateful day on the playground when no one else had been...

“I’ve had this for as long as I can remember...” Vergil murmured softly as he slowly returned his gaze to the witch in front of him. “And I very much plan to keep it that way.” 

“Fair enough,” Y/N nodded with a sympathetic look. “The mere company of a single weapon can provide a greater sense of ease than most may be willing to admit.” 

“Speaking from experience?” 

“Well it certainly takes one to know one,” the witch merely smiled with a shrug. 

“How long have you lived in Red Grave? I can’t imagine you being a local,” Vergil admitted, earning a faint snort from the witch. 

“Technically I’m originally from a small town in Sicily if what Zane told me is true. Supposedly my parents were doing something there and it just so happened I decided to come out a bit early,” Y/N shrugged with a snort as she played with one of the chocolate covered seeds. “Figured I’d be born in a place that would become my favorite hotspot for food.”

“Then...how did you end up in Red Grave?” Vergil asked as his brow furrowed curiously. 

“Well, if my mother’s diary entries are to be believed, we ended up moving somewhere close to here due to her having connections with an old family friend and her kids that lived here. As to who that woman was, well, I suppose my guess is as good as yours. Not that I’m sure you need much of a guess to figure that one out,” Y/N smiled, rolling a piece of chocolate between her fingers before popping it inside her mouth. 

“So, since you apparently have a thing for summoning big fucking demon towers,” Y/N began, causing Vergil to groan internally in response, “what on earth made it seem like a good idea to do it in the first place? Let alone twice?” 

“I take it you heard about this from Dante?” Vergil groaned, already silently cursing his brother and his big mouth. 

“Him and a number of sources regarding the sudden appearance and giant fuck-you sized tower that was crawling with demons. Trust me, it’s hard to do something like that and not gain the attention of the local covens,” Y/N snorted as she watched the half devil expectantly. “Well?” 

Vergil firmly stared at the witch as he did his best to carefully choose his words, his eyes occasionally glancing down at the glass of wine in front of him as the faint glow of the shop glimmered over its surface. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted power to finally become like his father? To be able to slay any foe and perhaps even defeat the demon that had ruined his entire life? And if he did, how could she possibly understand? What would she know of having lost it all and feeling like nothing more than a pathetic worm as the world tramples down on you as if you were little more than dirt, all the while mockingly reminding you of said weakness? 

“I---I had my reasons,” Vergil replied finally after breathing a deep sigh. “It was important that I seek out the power of Sparda. I needed it more than ever.” 

“Did you really? Or did some shit-for-brains demon tell you that?” Y/N replied as she took another swig of her wine. “You don’t need to go chasing ghosts and shadows to become stronger. Trust me, I know from experience there is no pride or joy in chasing the paths of the dead. It only leads to further suffering and heartbreak.” 

“How can you sound so sure of yourself?” Vergil asked with an almost accusatory glare. 

“Because it wasn’t so long ago I was in your very shoes,” she replied, seemingly unphased by his reply as she continued to swirl her wine glass in her hand. “I once thought I needed to inherit my own mother’s power and secrets to be able to surpass any power I could hope to dream with a demonic partner. That, if I had it, the covens would finally leave me alone and I would be able to assert myself against any threat that would try and push me down under its heel again.” Y/N paused as she slowly turned to look back at Vergil, her gaze as sharp and cold as ice. “But the only thing that kind of chase me brought me was more suffering and loss than I could ever ask for...costing me things that not even the most powerful of magics can bring back.” 

“...What did you lose?” 

“More than I could have fathomed,” Y/N replied as she gently rested the wine glass on the counter. “Friends, dreams, freedom, respect, nearly my own life and then some. Instead all I gained with an ungodly amount of reminders of that fateful day.” Y/N gently slid off her jacket and turned over her arm before muttering a faint incantation. Before Vergil could say anything, her skin appeared to shimmer before revealing a plethora of scars that trailed alone both of her arms, occasionally intertwining with the few tattoos she had along her upper arms. Vergil could only imagine what kind of beast would be able to make scars that deep, though he hardly had to think hard as he looked up at her. “I’d show you the others, though I don’t plan on stripping down this early.” 

“I...I see...” Vergil murmured with a nod, coughing slightly while doing his best to ignore the faint layer of heat that had begun to settle in his cheeks upon hearing the idea. He found himself unconsciously rubbing his own arms and shoulders where a number of his own myriad of scars laid. “I take it the Red Grave Coven doesn’t let you forget this either.” 

“Hah, trust me, they’d dig up my own mother’s corpse and beat me with it if they even knew where to find the body,” Y/N scoffed bitterly as she shook her head, black painted nails tapping against the counter top. “They like to throw around her name and legacy whenever they get the chance. They like to say it’s to remind me of what I can hope to be but I know they just like to use her as a way to manipulate me. The trick got a little stale after the thirtieth or so time, as you might be able to imagine.” Y/N took another long swig of her drink before shaking her head and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But enough about that. It’s my turn: why do you want to learn so much about me?” 

“Is it wrong to want to learn about people you’re curious about?” 

_“You’re avoiding the question, Mr. Sparda,”_ the witch replied in a sing-song voice as she slowly blinked at him and leaned against the counter, chin in her hand. 

“Hmph. There really is no getting around you is there?” Vergil huffed before sighing and continuing. “I will admit, you’re hardly like any woman I’ve met before. Few have proven the kind of spark that you seem to have.” 

“Ah, I see,” Y/N grinned with a small chuckle. “Have you simply become utterly smitten with me, my dear dark slayer?” 

“ _Absolutely_ _spellbound_ , I assure you,” Vergil scoffed as he sipped his drink once more, feeling the warmth in his stomach gradually bloom and grow. Little by little he felt as though something in him was becoming looser by the mind, like a wire that has been slowly uncoiled little by little the more he indulged. 

There was no denying that the feeling he got from her company was unlike any he had before. She was clever and sharp and didn’t seem to mind speaking her mind. She didn’t falter before a challenge, regardless of who or what said challenge seemed to be. Not to mention she hardly seemed fazed in knowing exactly who or what he was, instead merely treating him with the kind of warmness one might expect to share with an old friend. In fact, as he stared at her, he couldn’t help but feel the corners of his mouth begin to slightly twitch into an upward curl, nearly forming that of a smile, which was hardly something the muscles of his face seemed too familiar with. There was just something about how the light seemed to hit her that sent this blooming warmth all throughout the dark slayer’s body, quickly spreading like wildfire. And while he was by no means fond of liquor and its daunting effects, for once he didn’t seem to mind its presence. 

“You have proven yourself to be capable both physically and intellectually speaking and take no such foolishness from anyone,” Vergil continued with a sigh as he lowered his glass, allowing for the witch to refill his glass without a single protest. 

“Mhm, you know I think I could get used to this kind of conversation, please do go on,” Y/N smirked with a chuckle as she ran her hand through her hair. “Perhaps I should start recording these conversations. I do love a man who knows how to state the obvious.”

“Would you rather I serenade them like some love-struck bard standing outside your window?” Vergil scoffed with a half drunken smirk as he thumbed his glass. 

“Depends, is that an offer?” the witch smirked with a soft giggle, leaning against the counter with her face in her hand. “Though I’d hardly turn down the option to see you in tights and a feathered cap with a lute. Who knows, I might just have to savor it with taking a few dozen pictures.” 

“I have no doubt that you would humor such a thought, though now it’s my turn to ask, Miss L/N,” Vergil said as his brow narrowed ever so slightly as his voice turned to that of a low hum almost akin to that of a purr as he spoke. “What have you been hiding from me?” 

Although she seemed to hide it well at first glance, Vergil could pick up the little quirks and slight fidgeting of her body, noticing the way she swallowed hard and cleared her throat as a hint of anxiousness gleamed in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That’s not a proper answer, Miss Y/N.” 

“I don’t--”

“You don’t mean to tell me that you of all people aren’t aware that strange figures have been lurking around in dark alleys and corners around your shop? The strange markings and unusual amount of dark feathered birds lurking about your shop. Mysterious figures wearing dark cloaks and using inhuman ways of trying to hide and transport themselves in hopes of not being seen?” Vergil asked as he leaned in more, his voice a bit firmer this time as he began to slowly close the gap. “I find it hard to believe a woman such as yourself, who has shown impeccable magical capabilities and wisdom, remains _blissfully_ unaware of such a looming presence.” 

Y/N merely stared at him, beginning to open her mouth before stopping and closing it shortly after before letting out a deep sigh and running a hand down her face. “I suppose there’s no fooling your eyes, is there?” 

“I’m sorry, though I couldn’t help deny your recent behavior. You’ve seemed more...on edge, almost as though expecting trouble any day now,” Vergil said as he watched her carefully, his cool blue gaze staring deeply into hers, almost as though hoping to find some sort of answer. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, though from what I have heard from my brother and Nero, this behavior seems rather unlike you.” 

“What do you think I’m like then?” the witch asked as she slowly blinked at him, the faint glow of the shop light cradling her features in an almost angelic light as it illuminated her face, her eyes twinkling. 

Vergil didn’t want to look away from them, dare he say her eyes were like the sea, deep in untold mystery after mystery that only provided more questions than answers. And yet, all the same, just like the sea, they two were hauntingly beautiful, even with the very possibility of their dark beauteous waves pulling him under as the rest of her shone like the moon. Whether she was an angel or a siren, his salvation or his demise, he had yet to find the answer. Though, even beneath those dark waves, there was still something more that had yet to allow itself to be fully unseen, almost as though trying to guard itself from hungry, prying eyes. 

“I think you’re someone who knows many things and yet likes to act as though she knows nothing. You’re as lovely as a rose -- lovely but still carrying thorns. And yet...for all your guarded nature, there is more. In your willingness to treat me, you never asked for anything in return. Even what and who I am does not seem to ever occupy your mind” Vergil found himself closing the gap more as he leaned in closer, his gaze firm as the pair now remained barely inches apart, only separated by the glass of the shop counter top. “You are...like the moon and the sea; beautiful to behold but offering more questions than answers,” Vergil said as he paused to take a final sip from his glass before gently placing it off to the side. “To put it frankly, Miss Y/N, I believe you are many things, though I know for certain you are not a fool.” 

Y/N merely stared at him, blinking at him as only the sound of a soft chuckle left her lips, which slowly curled into a faint smile. Vergil could feel a part of him screaming at him for his foolish words, though another part, a strangely more human part that he had left suppressed for so long, seemed nothing but pleased. There was a strange yet almost familiar sense pulled at him, practically pleading him to reach out and touch her. He could feel his heart hammer inside his chest as a strange heat began to bloom and grow. He was uncertain as to what to call it, and yet he could feel the persistent nature of it all the same. All he was certain of was that more than anything else, he wanted to hold her hand in his, longing to see what warmth her smaller form would come to surely greet him with. He had only felt it once briefly in the moments they shared tea and the day she had given him his charm, and yet none spoke more to him then that fateful night she remained by his side. 

“I see Blake and his kind have rubbed off on you after all,” Y/N finally spoke as she reached for another piece of chocolate covered fruit. “Since you’re so determined to be honest with me, it’s only fair I return the favor.” Quickly downing the remainder of her drink, she had let out a long sigh before pouring herself another and continuing. “It’s true, I have been hiding something, though not just from you. You see, as I’ve mentioned, the local Red Grave City Coven and I have some beef with one another, and despite my best efforts, they’re not exactly keen on letting me live in peace.”

Vergil quirked a brow as he tilted his head slightly. “Are you at any risk of being attacked?”

Y/N merely scoffed as she waved her hand dismissively at the thought. “They’d have to be very brave or very stupid to do so, though probably both. You see the “event” of two years ago did quite a little bit of damage for the local covens around here, so they’re hardly as strong and potent as they used to be after a number of them were either devoured by demons, turned into demonic plant food or were essentially turned into living batteries to create demons as Lady and Trish once were. That said, they’re basically desperate to gather whatever forces and ‘allies’ they can have at their disposal.”

“And so they wish to try and rope you back into their numbers?”

“Something like that no doubt,” Y/N shrugged. “One of their High Priestesses, Calyssa, _so graciously_ invited me to their annual Lunar Gala, a little ‘party’ -- shall we say -- to celebrate the lunar eclipse of this year. Since it falls in line with the approach of the fall equinox, they’ve been keen on making it a big deal for all local witches, and their select patrons, to attend.” 

_Ah, yes, I see where you’re going with this,_ Vergil thought as he let out a soft hum. “So demons are more than likely to be in attendance.” 

“Them and whatever else the local witches of this area have managed to forge pacts with. One year I met a charming Fey patron from a former colleague of mine. Charming man with a pension for tricks and baked goods. Quite a conversationalist if there ever was one. Definitely one of the less unnerving members among the patrons present,” Y/N added with a soft chuckle as she shook her head. “Respectable enough to not try and take any side pacts.” 

“Side pacts?” Vergil asked, his brow furrowing curiously at the term. 

“Pacts that are more so just off the book deals that patrons -- namely demons -- like to use on the side from their more serious pacts. In human terms, I suppose they would be the equivalent of being someone’s _‘side hoe,’_ as your brother and Nico like to so charmingly put it, though it’s not like they’re exactly wrong either,” the witch added as she rolled her eyes and began to pour herself another glass of wine. “Tragic but true.” Unlike his usual sober and mostly unreadable expression, Vergil did little to hide the growing confusion on his face. Likely a result of the wine no doubt. 

“Has anyone tried to sway you into any such pacts.”

“Hah! I practically have to basically rent one of my non-human friends to act as my patron just to keep them at bay. Hell, there was this one demon, who was one of the minor lords of the Circle of Lust, a powerful Incubus, and let me tell you he’s as handsy as he is stubbornly persistent in his pursuits! Thankfully I had a friend of mine to pull him off before I could turn the bastard into a block of ice.” 

“This friend of yours wouldn’t happen to be that mentor of yours? Zarius, was it?” Vergil asked.

“Zane usually isn’t around to be dragged to such events, and even if he is he likes to make a spectacle of the entire thing. Which, quite luckily, is why his older brother is usually kind enough to essentially serve as both bodyguard and chaperone,” she replied. “Markus thankfully is as tactful and decent as he is strong, demonic prince of the 9th circle or not.” 

Vergil could feel himself nearly choking on his drink the moment those words left her mouth. Had he heard her right just now?! Not Lord but **_PRINCE_ **of the 9th circle of the Underworld?! Just who exactly was this mentor of hers and how did she have connections to not only him but a connection to such a man as well?! And without a pact of all things?! Vergil could feel his head spinning as question after question filled his mind. 

“How exactly does one casually call up such a favor from a prince of hell?” Vergil asked, still not quite believing the very words he was speaking. 

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I asked him to do it for _free_ ,” Y/N scoffed a bit too casually for Vergil’s liking. “Though I’m sure he would gladly do so if it meant he got to look good with an infamous local witch next to him to shoot down any of his would-be rivals. Well, if you could even call them that. Markus Froste, as he likes to be called in the human world, likes to remind other demons that he’s both better and stronger than them on many such levels. Well, that, and I’m pretty sure he’s more than keen to get the lifetime 75% discount on all products from my shop, magical tea blends and sweets included.”

Vergil cocked his head at the idea of a powerful demon casually walking into a shop for tea and sweets. Just who in the hell was this man? Were all of the kin of this mentor of hers as strange and unorthodox as him in terms of demonic standards? And for a demonic prince of all things to do this as well? “What does a demon want with sweets and tea?”

“What? Are humans and faeries the only ones who are allowed to enjoy nice things that aren’t the blood and flesh of mortals? Besides, my conditioner recipe is one of the few that keeps his hair the way he likes it,” Y/N laughed with a deeply amused grin as she shook her head. “Markus is a man of refined taste, or that’s what anyone will tell you if you ask for him, albeit not by that name. You see, we have this sort of business arrangement between us that isn’t the conventional kind of contract you’d find between a witch and a demon. In exchange for medication, sweets, teas and other magical products of mine, he provides financial stability that helps pay most of my larger bills and also occasionally does some favors for me. That and he’s quite pleasant company. A bit chilly at first but once he warms up to you he’s surprisingly pleasant....A lot like you, actually,” Y/N added, smiling as she tilted her head playfully. “Just as protectively stubborn too, I might add.” 

“I’m **_not_ **stubborn,” Vergil countered firmly. 

“Oh? But you definitely are protective?” Y/N playfully grinned. 

“When and where it counts,” Vergil smirked with a light shrug. “It’s only natural to be protective of what you hold dear.” 

“Mhm...so I see,” Y/N hummed softly as she batted her eyes at him, running her finger around the rim of her glass slowly. “Would I be so fortunate to be on that list?”

“Depends, what if I said yes?” Vergil replied, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, feeling his body move closer, consciously dragging him closer so that the two were little more than inches apart. 

“Then I’d consider myself in good and able hands. It’s hard for a girl to find a shining knight, and preferably one of the darker variety,” Y/N softly giggled with a hum, blinking slowly at the dark slayer. “I always found white knights to be overrated anyway.” 

“Does that make you a princess in distress?”

“Hardly, though even wicked witches need happy endings too,” the witch replied. “After all, perhaps that happy ending was all that was needed to keep them from turning wicked to begin with.” 

_There is someone truly wicked here indeed, my moon, though it is hardly you._

“Can the wicked witch find happiness with black knight who is merely a devil in disguise?” Vergil asked, his nails now digging into the cloth of his glove as he felt her breath gently graze his face. The faint scent of fruit and chocolate on her warm breath alone was practically intoxicating, and he could feel the grip on his two halves begin to slip. He hadn’t noticed it before though now that he looked closer he could truly begin to appreciate the features of her face, ranging from the dark reddish brown of her lipstick to the faint scars that resided along her right eye and on the left side of her jaw. _Your thorns tell a thousand stories and not one diminishes your beauty._

“Why not? If the storyteller will not give the so-called villains their own happy ending, then who are they to not write their own? In the end, despite what the Fates may think, we are the masters of our own destinies. It is not anyone else’s job to determine how our stories end than our own,” Y/N said with a soft shrug, bringing a small piece of fruit to fill the small gap between them. “And if doing so means sampling the forbidden fruit of life to find that happy fairy-tale ending in this world, then so be it.” 

There was something melancholic in the way the light shifted in her eyes, like moonlight reflecting off the surface of the ocean waves; perfectly reflecting the moon and stars but also hinting of that which lies beneath those dark waves. It was at this moment that the chain had finally snapped, and despite all reservations, Vergil found his hand gently wrapping around hers. He squeezed it with a tender firmness one would expect to use for glass, squeezing just enough to protect it but not enough to crush it into pieces. He could feel a part of him practically crying out to her, yearning to embrace her, to protect her and to give her the world if he could. It screamed with a sense of familiarity that physically pained the cambion, and couldn’t help but wonder: why? What was it about this woman that cried out to him so much that it touched him from the inside out? What was this strange sense of kinship that seemed to bloom like a rose in a dessert, coming from nothing but these unspoken rains of familiarity. Had they met before? Was it possible that for some strange reason her name and face have escaped him so easily? And if they had, why hadn’t she said anything? 

He was used to being so reserved and locked away beneath walls of ice and steel that he never considered the idea of being this close with anyone outside his own family, even then such affection was kept limited. And here he was, holding this woman’s hand in the middle of the night as they remained barely a breath apart as they shared a bottle of wine. Had anyone told Vergil something like this would happen years ago he probably would have dismissed the notion as something foolish and unworthy of his time, and yet, despite all odds, here he was, so tantalizingly close that it pained him. 

_Of all the forbidden fruit I’ve tasted, not one have I longed to taste as I do for you,_ Vergil thought as he softly inhaled, the scent of fruity spirits, chocolate and pomegranate filling his drunken mind into what he could only describe as bittersweet ecstasy. What he wouldn’t give for this single moment in time to last forever. To be so close and so vulnerable with someone and not have to worry what will happen next. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as though beating against caged walls as his tongue unconsciously ran itself over his suddenly parched lips as he felt his palms sweating beneath his gloves. _What he would give to simply have this moment last for but a little longer so that he could perhaps sample even the slightest taste of --_

The sound of a loud car horn pierced the silence, causing the pair’s hands to recoil from one another, Vergil already cursing to every force imaginable as his witch slipped away from him to greet whoever was approaching the door. Vergil recognized that horn all too well, if it was who he thought it was, it was going to take every fiber of his body to not kill his son and Nico for this later. 

“Yo, Y/N! We got some goodies for ya!” Nico yelled as she practically slammed open the door with her boot. 

The form of Nero appeared in the doorway soon after, already scolding his friend with a tone akin to an annoying parent. “Dammit, Nico, don’t be so damn lou--! Huh?” Nero quickly blinked in surprise in noticing the witch wasn’t the only one in the room. “Didn’t expect to see you here this late.” 

“Funny, I could say the same for you,” Vergil sighed as he slowly got up from the counter and turned to the pair. “I thought you went home already.” 

“I was about you but we ran into some last minute trouble that got us some leftover material,” Nero said as he held up the bag of various demonic parts. “Were you....were you two drinking?” 

“We--”

“--Were just having a friendly drink,” Y/N interrupted, casually popping the piece of fruit from earlier into her mouth. Whatever expression she had before had fully disappeared at this point, returning to its usual calm and carefree expression. Though there was no hiding the slight scowl of annoyance as the corner of her brow slightly twitched. “We ran into each other and decided to have some fun. Why? Worried we’ll get up to no good this late at night?” 

“I--well, no, of course not--” Nero stammered as his face began to quickly fill with heat. 

“Oooh, looks like we just walked in on your dad getting saucy with the witch doctor,” Nico laughed as she slapped Nero on the arm. 

“Shut up! Don’t be so ridiculous!” Nero groaned as he brushed her off, trying to act unphased despite glancing back at Vergil, who tried to avert his lowkey half murderous, half embarrassed gaze. As much as he loved his son, he was really beginning to push his luck with this timing of his. “Well, if there’s nothing else, we’ll just leave you with these,” Nero said as he handed the witch her ingredients. “Need a lift home, old man? Hate to leave you to walk home if you’ve been drinking.” 

“I can get home just fine, thank you,” Vergil replied with a slight huff as he furrowed his brow, meanwhile doing little to undermine the very obvious drunken blush forming in his cheeks. 

“You sure? You’ve clearly been drinking and it’s not like you can just--”

“I can take care of him, Nero, don’t worry,” Y/N replied as she corked the bottle and returned it to the back behind the folding screen. “I have a spare room he can bunk in if he _really_ needs it.” 

“Huh? But--”

“It’s _f-fiiine_ , Nero,” Vergil countered, his speech slurring slightly as he tried to hold himself steady against the counter. It was only now that his full glass of wine had finally started to hit him, and being the lightweight he was, Vergil felt as though it snuck up on him only to slam him with a metal chair. “I’m per-perfectly capable of handling _mysellllf_.” 

“... _Riiiiight_. Sure. Just don’t end up in some alley hungover and come crying to me about it later,” Nero sighed as he shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Take good care of him, Y/N. Would keep a close eye on him while he’s like this.” 

“Don’t worry, Nero, I’ll be sure to send him home with something for the morning, I promise,” the witch chuckled as she walked the pair out. 

“Huh? What? We aren’t going to grab some of those baked goodies firs--hey!” Nico yelled as she was promptly dragged out by a very annoyed and embarrassed Nero. 

“Come on, we’ve bugged them enough as is. Besides, we shouldn’t keep Kyrie waiting any longer,” Nero said as the door closed behind them with a faint chime, leaving the cambion and the witch to stand in silence. 

_Well, this is just lovely,_ Vergil internally groaned as he began to get up, only to stumble slightly as he tried to regain his balance, the world phasing in and out of focus. He was quickly beginning to remember why he often didn’t drink. Vergil was painfully aware of how poor he was in handling spirits of any kind despite his demonic heritage, and it did him no favors for his pride to have this happen while in front of her. 

“Alright, handsome, time to cut you off,” she chuckled as she finished off the rest of his drink and lent him her arm. “Come on. I’ll warp you home. I’m sure you’ll much prefer sleeping in your own bed than mine.” 

_My moon, you would be surprised at how lovely such an offer would truly be..._ Vergil thought as he imagined the cool velvet sheets against his skin. Or at least he imagined she’d choose velvet over silk. It definitely seemed to fit her more. Specifically black and blue velvet, speaking more to those dark ocean waves of hers. That, and he couldn’t help but admire how the color combo best seemed to compliment her eyes. 

“Alright, here we go!” She said with a huff as she placed his arm around her shoulder, allowing him to lean on her as she snapped her fingers and clicked her boot heel, a portal of blues and silvers soon forming moments after. “Alright, handsome, easy does it.” 

Before Vergil could even let out a word of protest she had managed to drag him through the portal, Vergil’s bedroom quickly forming around the two of them. While Vergil would hardly admit it, this was certainly not how he imagined him bringing her to his bedroom. Even then he still had questions for her, though he doubted he would get their answers like this. 

Y/N had gently sat him on the bed, already working to remove his coat and boots as he only stared at her. “Trust me, handsome, you’ll sleep better without these,” she smiled, carefully folding his coat before setting it aside with his boots close by. She had begun to get him to lie down when he unwittingly grabbed her arm, almost as though trying to prevent her from leaving. 

“Wait--”

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry, I have your hangover cure all right here,” Y/N smiled as she snapped her fingers, summoning the tall and slender bottle containing a strange herbal concoction. “Take a glass of this as needed but no less than twice a day with food and water until you feel better. You’ll feel good as new in no time, I promise,” she sweetly whispered with a wink as she set the bottle down on the bedside table. 

_No. Don’t go. Stay with me...just for a little while longer...please..._ Vergil felt his grip slightly tighten, determined to not be left alone in the darkness. 

“Stay with me,” he softly whispered, his face hot and eyes watering. He could feel a part of himself yelling at him for such a weakness, though quite frankly he found himself far too intoxicated to care. The only thing he cared about was keeping her beside him for just a little while longer. He longed to feel her warm touch on his skin and to hear her gently whisper his name in the dark. He didn’t want the moon to vanish into the night so soon, even if it meant being pulled deep within her dark and alluring waves. 

Y/N merely sighed before letting out a soft chuckle, gently gliding her hand along his cheek as she smiled at him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have made you indulge so much. I hate to imagine the pain I’ll leave you with in the morning.”

“Y/N...” Vergil whispered again, practically pleading as she sighed once more. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay just for a while longer,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed as Vergil slowly loosened his grip on her arm ever so slightly. “But just until you fall asleep. I’d hate to have to explain any of this to your brother.” 

“To hell with what that fool thinks,” Vergil grumbled, earning a soft chuckle from the witch as she began to gently play with his hair, stroking his scalp ever so lightly with her fingernails. Vergil could feel himself practically purr at the sensation as he felt his body ease. It was hard to not fall asleep between the alcohol and the massage alone. Vergil was only beginning to realize just how tired he was, though still did his best to try and stay awake. He didn’t want her to leave, and if that meant childishly trying to stay awake then so be it. 

“Now, now, don’t make me put a spell on you, young man,” Y/N chuckled, clearly picking up on the half devil’s attempts at staying awake. “You need your rest, Vergil. I promise, when you wake up, you’ll see me again. Even if I’m not at your immediate bedside.” 

“Is that a promise?”

“Haha, I’ll make it a blood oath if it means you’ll go to sleep,” the witch whispered with a faint giggle. “Now shhh, get some sleep.” With that, she began to softly hum to him, the tune once again so painfully familiar and yet so far away from him. Her voice carried him like a raft upon a large waking sea, the moon being his only source of light as he drifted and drifted further into the sea. He could feel his body become light, floating amongst the cool and refreshing waves as the calming darkness followed. All the while he followed the sound of her voice, the soothing siren song that echoed through his mind so as to deny its end. It’s then that Vergil had finally allowed himself to fully drift off to sleep. 

Y/N watched the sleeping half devil with soft eyes, quietly shaking her head as she ran her hand through his hair and down the side of his face. She almost felt sorry getting him this drunk, though she had to admit she had been at least somewhat amused in seeing how he handled his liquor. He hadn’t been much -- dare she say hardly even whole -- back when they first met. He was but a mere man with a book and some demons made real. While she cherished the memory of him fondly within her heart, she had to wonder if a part of him remembered her too. Not that it mattered, anyway. What happened two years ago had happened, and there was no undoing what had been done. She had come to adore his human side, though was all the more curious to see what other tricks his true self had in store. 

“You really are something else, aren’t you, Vergil?” Y/N whispered with a warm smile as she leaned down to his face. “Sweet dreams, my dear. May my song always lead you back to me as it did that day.” Without another word, she gently kissed his forehead before allowing herself to slip away from his side and back into the portal. As much as she’d love nothing more than to stay by his side and share a bed with him, she knew all too well that there was still a party left to plan. 

  
  



	5. Thunderstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after their shared drink together, the weather over Red Grave City seems to take a turn for the unusual as a series of rainstorms cling for several days at a time with little explanation. However, amidst the rumbling of thunder and the clash of lightning, Vergil finds that there is much more to learn about the late ties between his dear witch and the infamous Red Grave Coven.

The weather had turned rather strange for the past few days over the city of Red Grave. It seemed as though no matter how long it would stay clear and sunny, it would always fade into a storm, thunder piercing the sky as thunder would rumble in the distance. Had it been late spring or summer most would have brushed off the thought as being a mere product of the season. Though with this being around mid fall now, it was rather odd to see this many thunderstorms back to back.

“Man, seriously? Another one? When is this rain going to finally piss off already,” Lady groaned as she and Trish quickly ducked under one of the nearby awnings. “Geez, and here I was hoping to have a nice shopping day without having to walk in the damn rain.”

“Mhm, you can certainly say that again,” Trish nodded as she sipped her coffee, “the weather has definitely been more than a bit off lately.”

“You think a demon might be causing this?” Lady joked as she threw one of her shopping bags over her shoulder. 

“If it is one, it’s probably quite strong for the affect to last this long,” Trish replied, pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head. “Perhaps our favorite witch doctor will know for certain. She’s better than me in picking up on this sort of thing.”

“Really? I just assumed she just got all her intel through the grapevine or something,” Lady laughed as the pair continued on to the decent sized green building with a number of still lingering flowers and ivy growing around it, giving it an almost fairy tale vibe to the place. There was the faint scent of something sweet travelling through the air, practically becoming the pair to come closer. “Ooh, I wonder if she’s making those cinnamon and vanilla croissants that I love. Think she’ll let us take some home?”

“Only if we buy something else first, maybe,” Trish hummed as the pair reached the door, the faint sound of a bell ringing greeting them as they entered.

“Hey, Y/N! Got anything good for us today!” Lady yelled, humming in delight as she breathed in the strong scent of cinnamon and sugar and licked her lips. 

“Depends, are you actually going to buy something or are you just here to feed your inner gluttons?” the witch replied as she called from the kitchen. “You better at least buy one of my coffee or tea blends if you do go with said sweets.”

“If I say yes then will you promise to throw in an extra or two?” Lady said as she leaned against the counter. 

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N replied as she rounded the corner, cleaning her hands with a dish rag that she later tossed to the side. “Though I doubt you two came all this way just for tea and sweets.” 

“What? We can’t just visit our favorite witch to gossip and eat with?” Lady asked. 

“Not already knowing your cheeky little minds, you don’t,” the witch replied with a snort as she rolled her eyes, giving a fox-like grin. “Though the thought is appreciated if you actually did. Knowing you two, you’re here looking for information. Information that even Morrison himself can’t give you.” 

Lady and Trish look at one another in silence as the pair’s brows raised. 

“Told you she’d know,” Trish grinned before turning to the nearby shelves of herbal creams and lotions. “You’ve always had a good eye for reading people.”

“Well it helps that you two aren’t entirely unpredictable to me,” Y/N chuckles. Her sharp eyes watched the pair curiously as her right hand fiddled with a crystal bobble she retrieved from one of the nearby drawers. “Let me guess, you two have also noticed the unusual weather.” 

“So you do know something about that! Well, spill it already,” Lady yelled. 

“Relax, Lady, no need to get your panties in a twist. Yes, it’s a demon, though I’d hardly worry about tracking him down. He’s harmless compared to the rest of the demons of the city. And by harmless I mean he has no intentions of killing any innocents,” Y/N quickly added as Lady had begun to open her mouth to protest. “I happen to know this particular demon well enough to know he’s not into that kind of trouble. If anything it’s the other demons of this city that should be concerned.” 

“How so?” Trish asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously as she slowly turned to fully face the witch. 

“Let’s just say Sparda isn’t the only demon with a bone to pick with his own kind. As much as he likes messing with people, he’s hardly one to go around killing any humans without a very good reason like self defense,” she said, the crystal bobble now buzzing faintly with electricity as the witch rolled it in her hand. “So don’t worry about having to face him down anytime soon. If he does cause any problems, just give me a ring and I’ll deal with him.”

“And you know this demon? I thought you don’t make pacts,” Trish asked, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the counter besides Lady. 

“I don’t as far as pacts go. Let’s just say I’ve known this demon for quite a long time; dare I say we’re practically friends in the very least. To some degrees, maybe even family,” Y/N added with a soft chuckle, her eyes seemingly staring off far beyond the pair in question. “But enough about that. Is there anything else you wish to poke me with before I fulfill your orders. Same as usual, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Oh! And throw in a bag of that one espresso blend you let me sample last time with some of those croissants! I’ve been needing something strong to kick me into gear in the morning,” Lady added with a grin. 

“Okay, today’s special with one bag of espresso and a bag of Dragon Pearl Jasmine Tea,” Y/N noted as she jotted it down on a nearby notepad. “What about you, Trish? Green chai with orange peel again?”

“Yes, that sounds good. Though I’ll also take a bag of your Gunpowder Green and Jasmine Rose,” Trish added while half examining one of the nearby crystal cat figurines, admiring the glimmering liquid inside them. “I’ll also take a dozen of those citrus lily cupcakes of yours. Dante has actually been working hard lately and it’s only fair we treat him to a little bit of something nice for a change.” 

“Haha, generous as always I see,” Y/N smirked as she rolled her eyes. “I’ll send you off with the other package I have for him anyway as his bonus for the month. And no it’s not cash if you’re looking to have a peek. I told him if he did well on the last job I gave him I’d see about making some of those strawberry shortcake cupcakes for him he wanted to try last time.” 

“You know he’s only going to keep coming like some stray cat, right?” Lady joked.

“If it keeps him coming back for jobs then it’s fine by me. Makes my life easier to bake than deal with demons half the time anyway,” Y/N scoffed as she snapped her fingers, causing a neatly packaged red cake box to float across the kitchen to her arms. 

“Speaking of you handling demons,” Lady began with a grin as she watched the witch begin to pick out cupcakes from the counter behind her. “I heard a certain brother of Dante’s has been hanging around here more. Let me guess, you fed him once and now he won’t leave you alone?”

Y/N merely rolled her eyes as she scoffed. “What can I say? I’m a drug dealer of magical sweets, getting humans and demons alike addicted.” Sealing the cupcake box and putting it off to the side, she turned back to the pair. “If this is the part where I’m supposed to say we went on some romantic get together and secretly eloped, I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Really? Even with your brief time together with him as V he still hasn’t asked you out? I mean, he’s been going here practically every day for what? At least a month and a half?” Lady asked with a look of surprise. “I mean, the guy was basically crazy about you from what I could tell for Vergil standards. It’s not like he doesn’t remember you or anything, right?”

Rather than giving the sarcastic response she would usually give at such a remark, Y/N remained silent, instead simply opting to busy herself by drinking from one of her nearby teacups, this one depicting the moon and sun. Lady and Trish, meanwhile, merely gawked at one another, quickly picking up on the witch’s unusual silence as they stared back at her. 

“You’re fucking joking right? There’s no way he shouldn’t remember you,” Lady replied with an almost uneasy laugh. “I mean the way he spoke with you, the way he looked at you, the way you basically saved his ass again and again–” Lady began, blinking in surprise as she counted off each and every encounter between the two. “I’m amazed he didn’t ask you out last time the two of you hung out.”

Y/N’s brow merely twitched at the memory of their last encounter while sharing a bottle of wine. They had been so painfully close to igniting something over a rare tender moment of vulnerability. She could practically taste him from how close they were. And yet that damn car horn blared mockingly from the back of her mind as a painful reminder. Her grip on her teacup handle only tightened as she attempted to gently put it down. “I will just say that if he does remember any of it, he has not mentioned it to me.” 

“I’d say he has some nerve pulling this shit, though at the same time I shouldn’t be surprised,” Lady sighed as she rested her chin against her hand. “Is he at least good to you?”

Y/N merely snorted as she raised a curious brow. “If you’re offering to go kick his ass for me, then I assure you there’s no need. He was prickly in the beginning, but otherwise he’s been a perfect gentleman despite his flaws. Besides, are you two implying I couldn’t handle knocking him down a peg myself?”

“Wha–?! Well, no, of course not–” Lady laughed nervously. 

“We’re just trying to look out for you is all,” Trish interrupted, giving Lady a small pat on the shoulder. “We’d hate to see him leave you heartbroken.” 

“Oh trust me, blondie, it’s going to take more than mere heartbreak to beat me down, I assure you,” Y/N scoffed as she tossed a piece of her hair over her shoulder. “That said, don’t think you two get to pester him just because he doesn’t remember, and even if he does remember and just hasn’t said anything, I’m sure he has his own reasons for not. Plus, I’m not going to pester him with pointless questions unless he wants me to. And if we just stay with being just brunch friends who talk about books, tea and idiot siblings, then fine. If it’s not meant to be, then that’s simply how the Fates have written it.” 

Lady and Trish exchanged looks of concern as they looked back to the now tired witch, who was pinching the bridge of her nose as she let out a deep sigh. “I’m not going to force him into anything he doesn’t want, just as I know he wouldn’t do to me. He’s been through enough hell from others forcing their ways into him, the last thing I want is to make him go through that again. He needs a positive source in his life and if my mere friendship is enough for him, then so be it.”

“Man, and here I was expecting one of your ‘If you want something, then you gotta go and fight for it’ speeches,” Lady said softly as she sighed and shrugged. “Well, if it means anything, the offer to kick his ass is always on the table, Y/N.”

“She’s right. We’re here for you if you ever need anything,” Trish nodded with a soft grin. “That said….this demon of yours that’s in town…you don’t think he’s going to have a problem with one of the boys, is he?” 

Y/N opened her mouth to speak only to quickly shut it with her knuckle between her teeth. While she had made a point to warn him not to cause any unnecessary trouble with civilians, she had hardly considered what trouble she knew he was sure to stir up should he ever run into the Sons of Sparda. Her eyes slightly widened as she merely let out a groan before facepalming. But then again, surely even Dante and Vergil could go to toe with him if he’s just looking to mess around, right? Sure he was well over ten thousand years old and even predated Mundus, but it wasn’t as though he’d kill the children of his prime student Sparda, right? 

Y/N thought to herself as she sighed deeply, 

“I’m sure Vergil and Dante will be perfectly fine. They’ve been through worse scrapes. I doubt it’s nothing the two of them can’t handle.” Internally, however, the witch knew all too well of the chaos her dear mentor was willing to cause if it meant toying with a Son of Sparda. 

Was Zane a malevolent demon?  _ Hardly _ . 

Was he an asshole who liked to dick with the heads of his potential opponents to make a game out of it for his amusement? 

**_Abso-fucking-lutely._ **

There was something about the weather that didn’t quite seem right to Vergil. While he normally enjoyed the cold and dreary days for reading and sleeping, there was something about the persistent returns of the recent storms that just didn’t quite sit well with him. He could feel as though a part of him was on edge, and not just because of the other whirling anxiety that was buzzing around in his head from that fateful day. He was sure to give Nero an especially thorough training session the following day once his hangover had finally blown over thanks to the concoction that his dear witch had given him. Though, despite his annoyance, Vergil could still feel the faint lingering warmth that his beloved witch had left behind as she had sweetly caressed his face before he slipped into the realm of dreams. He even found himself softly humming her gentle lullaby that she had sweetly hummed to him that night. 

It was some of the few things that had made the last few days bearable between his brother’s pesky teasing and prying and Nero’s continuous interruptions. While he did not want to be angry with the latter, it was becoming hard to deal with yet another timely interruption to ruin the mood. 

The sound of roaring thunder stirred the elder twin from his thoughts, his brow furrowing as he felt that distinct crackling of lightning in the air, the hairs on his body practically standing on edge. Something in Vergil stirred and growled, his own inner demon quickly becoming on edge as the sound of footsteps on the now empty road reached Vergil’s ears. He slowly turned to face the image of a man just ever so lightly taller than him. Long wild black hair that was partially shaved on one side ran down past his shoulders. His stature was tall and toned with a certain litheness to him, similar to that of a gymnast or acrobat. He was dressed primarily in black with the occasional dark grey and shades of purple. What stood out the most to Vergil though was the unnatural color of his eyes. They were a vibrant shade of purple almost akin to lightning, causing Vergil to tense as his grip on Yamato tightened. There was something off about this man–if you could even call him that, likely a demon in human clothing no doubt. 

This of course was only confirmed by flickering of lighting that seemed to coil around the figure as though natural. The man would eventually come to a stop, casually cracking his neck as he sighed and smirked at Vergil–his casual and confident body language only putting Vergil further on edge. There was something in the man’s eye that felt off to Vergil, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

“Lovely weather we’re having, ain’t it?” the stranger asked with a chuckle as he casually looked about, his long black hair dancing in the wind. “Haven’t seen your face around here before. You new here, handsome?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Vergil curtly replied as his shoulders tightened and brow furrowed further. “I needn’t explain myself to someone such as you.” 

“Ooh, you’re a cold one aren’t you? And here I was just humbly making conversation,” the strange man chuckled before letting out a sigh. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a certain witch doctor around, have you?”

“…What do you want with her?” Vergil could feel his words sharpen like blades, practically ready to draw Yamato on this demon any time now. 

“Now, now, no need to get so testy. I’m just looking to do some business and catch up. Why? You her new boy-toy now? Aww, don’t worry, I won’t take up too much of her time for you. I’d hate for you to turn green from all that envy oozing off of you. It’s bad for your complexion.” With every word the demon only smirked more, tilting his head tauntingly as he watched Vergil’s anger only build, his cold and neutral mask slowly slipping. 

_ “If you dare lay a finger on her– _ ” Vergil warned. 

“Oh now, now, young man! I am but a humble gentleman, I assure you. After all, witches are much more useful when they’re alive and in one piece.” 

“If it’s a witch you want, then why her?” Vergil asked impatiently. “There are plenty of witches in the city. Go pester one of them instead.” 

The demon snorted as he listened to Vergil’s demands. “You’re beginning to sound like that old man of yours. So protective and untrustworthy of that which you cannot comprehend. It’s adorable really.” 

“…How do you know my father,” Vergil said, less asking and now practically ordering this strange demon as his blood began to the point where it could practically be akin to magma with every word he spoke. He didn’t know how or why but it was as though he knew exactly which button to poke and prod to get the reaction he wanted. Although he wanted to act as though he was unphased by the fool’s words, there was something in him that demanded he put this man six feet into the ground and sent him straight to hell.

“Well,” the demon smirked as he slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses, “why don’t you beat me and find out for yourself–if you can even catch me that is.” The figure stood there for a moment until Vergil dove to try and slice him in one clean go upon drawing Yamato from its sheath, only for the stranger to literally evaporate into mist, disappearing from sight. Vergil only seemed to find him again as bolts of lightning whizzed by him in bursts, just barely grazing his skin as he skidded backwards against the concrete upon turning on his heel. 

“Feeling a bit  _ shocked  _ are we?” the demon smirked, practically goading Vergil at this point as a pair of pistols were summoned into his hands, each radiating that same purple lightning that emanated off their wielder. 

Vergil only growled as he looked up to the demon standing on one of the upper roofs of the nearby buildings, already summoning his summoned swords to try and take a couple shots at him. Though, while all of them were on point, they were all quickly dispersed by the demon’s shots of lightning that whizzed and crackled from his guns. Dare he even say this man was a better shot than his idiot brother. 

“You know I don’t know about you but I’m feeling a real spark between us, kid,” the demon mocked as he struck Vergil with a bolt of lightning as he attempted to get closer to the demon, sending him flying. 

Vergil growled upon feeling the blow strike him, digging his heels into the concrete to stop himself from flying further across the street. He could easily feel the power of the demon’s blows, though that wasn’t even the most shocking part–not only were his blows strong, they weren’t even at full power. If anything it felt as though it were meant to be equivalent to how you may give someone a warning smack, wanting to only leave them with a small taste of the hell that awaited them. Vergil wasn’t sure he wasn’t more concerned or insulted. This demon seemed more interested in toying with him than killing him, yet somehow the former felt even worse than the latter. 

“I have to say you’re like lightning yourself, kid–you simply just don’t know how to  _ conduct  _ yourself,” the demon mocked, casually side stepping each of the attacks that Vergil had attempted to throw at him in an attempt to silence him. “Perhaps it’s about time that I  _ ground  _ you.” 

“You really never know when to quit do you,” Vergil seethed as he attempted to slide into the demon’s arm, only to be greeted with a staff of lightning that would force him back to the other side of the roof. 

“Oh I don’t know,” the demon grinned, tilting his head as he twirled the staff that had quickly replaced the guns, summoning blades on the separate ends of the staff, lightning dispersing to reveal that of a dual bladed scythe. “I find this little fight of ours to be quite–”

“Don’t. You. Dare–” Vergil began. 

“ _ En-lightning _ ,” the demon finished with a grin as he effortlessly parried each of Vergil’s swipes at him. The two continued to clash for a time, Vergil’s blows being parried left and right even when he did manage to shove or push back the demon at times, though not without being assaulted with blow after blow of crackling lightning that emanated from every blow of the demon’s scythe. Vergil had just about had it with the demon’s games, sliding back to unleash judgement cut–only for each blow to be met and sliced in half upon release, stunning the dark slayer into silence. 

The demon twirled his scythe as he whistled, fainting a look of awe. “Well haven’t you got a few dozen tricks up your sleeves. Too bad I saw them coming a mile away,” he sighed. He had been about to speak again when the local bell tower struck one, the demon looking away from Vergil as he cocked a brow. “Oh? That time already? And just right when I was beginning to get warmed up to,” he sighed with a chuckle, twirling his scythe once more as he returned to the form of the twin handguns, which he holstered at his sides. “What a pity. Oh well, as much as I hate to be a real buzz kill, it looks like it’s about time to take my leave.”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Oh?  _ Stunned  _ to see me leave so soon? Unfortunately for you I have places to be. Besides, I’d love to stay and play some more but you looked more than a little fried. And I’d hate to send you to our dear friend extra crispy,” the demon smirked as he turned and began to leave. 

“Like hell you will–” Vergil began as he attempted to take the demon from behind, only to once again feel his blade slice through mere mist as the demon had completely vanished from sight. He scanned the area from head to toe but the leather bound demon was nowhere in sight, almost as though having evaporated into thin air. His eyes narrowed in frustration as his mind raced and his grip on Yamato tightened. Just as he was about to open his mouth to yell, he froze, his blood having run cold as his mind raced to only one particular place. 

_ “Y/N!”  _

Not even humoring a second thought, Vergil was already quickly slicing a portal to her shop, quickly moving through it like a bat out of hell. This demon had mentioned that he knew her, and if Vergil’s instincts were right, he’d have no doubt he was heading towards her direction. He said he wanted to have a chat with her, and something in Vergil’s stomach twisted with a sense of dread that he had only felt once before so long ago. He couldn’t stand to let history repeat itself, especially now that he finally had the power to do something about it.

As soon as the shop, Vergil didn’t wait a second before rushing through the front door, calling for the witch in a panicked voice as he looked around the shop, searching for any signs of a struggle. He wasn’t sure he was more concerned or relieved to find none upon looking about the front of the shop, and only thought to calm himself once he heard her voice pierce the panicking silence. 

“Vergil? What’s wrong? I’m in the kitchen. Did something–ahhh!” the witch yelped, nearly colliding with her and she had begun to step through the kitchen door from the back. “Sweet Hermes’ ass, Vergil, what’s wrong? You look like you just ran into old man death at a coffee shop or something.” Y/N said, taking note of his disheveled appearance and paled face, his eyes wide with panic. 

“You’re–you’re okay,” Vergil said, almost hesitantly reaching up a hand to touch her arm, almost as though afraid she too would fade into mist. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mind would have been turned against him, plagued by cruel illusions to toy with him as they’d break down his mind like clay. 

“Of course I’m okay. Maybe a little spooked by the sudden panic, but I mean otherwise–” she began as she stopped to shake her head. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat. I just made some tea. You should come join us.” 

“…Us?” Vergil said, only to freeze dead in his tracks as he looked further in, and sitting by the table with one leg crossed over the other, leaning back casually in his seat while delicately drinking from a small tea cup, sat the very same leather bound demon from before. “Y/N, get away from him!” Vergil yelled, immediately pulling her behind him. 

“Huh? Vergil what are you going on ab– _ Ooh _ . Okay. I see that happened here.” Y/N sighed as she looked between the two men, her eyes narrowing at the black haired demon who was still smugly sipping his tea. “What did you do this time, you pompous asshat?”

“What? I have done nothing wrong in my life? I was simply having a chat with this young chap,” the demon smirked with a mocking wink. “Figured I’d check out the fresh meat who’s been courting your doorstep every day and night.” 

Vergil had begun to open his mouth before noticing the rather large and thick tome that quickly came flying from behind the demon, whacking him from the back of the head.

“OW! Sweet Mary Magdalene’s tits, woman, you know that hurts!” the demon hissed and groaned, tentatively rubbing the back of his head. “You’re acting like I shanked the kid or something.” 

“Oh trust me darling if you did I’d have punted you straight back into the Underworld face first if you did,” she warned with a sarcastic sigh before turning to Vergil. “I’m so sorry for whatever this millennia old idiot has put you through. Unfortunately he has a habit of liking to dick with people–especially with those who I choose to associate with.” 

Vergil couldn’t help but give a perplexed look between the demon and the witch, not quite sure of what to make of whatever relationship they had, getting only more questions than answers as the scene before him played on. “Who–what–how–” Vergil began before shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, just who exactly is this man?” 

Y/N merely sighed as she ran a hand through her long hair. “It’s a long story but I’ll save you the major details. Remember the other night when we were drinking and I mentioned that I have a ‘mentor’ of sorts. You know, the one who taught me magic and how to fight and effectively lends me his magic to guard the shop and myself?” 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed slightly as he simply nodded, exchanging a look between the witch and the demon, not quite sure of what to make of the situation. 

“Well, this is him. His name is Zane and he’s one of the oldest idiots of the demon world. Try not to let him push his buttons too much. He likes to think he’s being clever when he does it.” Y/N sighed as she rolled her eyes and looked back to Zane, who was now casually resting his chin against his fist as he leaned against the table. “I swear I can’t leave you with people I know for more than five minutes.”

“Is it so wrong I wanted to make sure this boy was worth your time and affections? I’d hate for you to be wasting your time with mere dead-weight.”

“I’d watch your tongue, fool.” Vergil warned, his eyes narrowing sharply. 

“Ah-ah-ah~! No stabbing by the mahogany! Blood is a bitch to clean and you’d be ruining a perfectly good and innocent table, good sir,” Zane chuckled. “I doubt our friend here would appreciate such damages to her furniture.” 

“Hush. Or I might just throw you both out,” Y/N groaned as Vergil finally eased his hold on her, allowing her to move back to the stove to fetch her kettle. “Come on, let’s have that tea before I really lose my patience.” 

Vergil let out a tired sigh as he took a seat at the table, still warily eyeing the demon across the table who was a bit too casually sipping his tea. He smiled softly as his drink was handed to him along with a plate of lily decorated orange and yellow cupcakes. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to go a few dozen rounds with the demon to give him a piece of his mind for having blatantly messed with his head and fearing for the safety of the witch. Though, the more he watched him, the more Vergil quickly began to realize the man gave off more of the vibe of a hyena than a lion. Though, he could not deny the certain wolfishness in the demon’s smile that didn’t quite sit right with him. 

“I should really keep a dog like you on a tighter leash these days,” Y/N grumbled as she grabbed one of the cupcakes and toyed with the cupcake wrapper. “Why is it you can’t just say hi to people the normal way like everyone else?” 

“Well where would the fun be in that?” Zane smirked as he shot a playful wink at Vergil, who had let out a soft growl in the meantime as the demon merely laughed. 

“And to think I’m more of an adult than the ten thousand year old demon,” Y/N sighed as she ran a hand down her face before turning to Vergil and giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry again about this whole mess. I would have smacked him out of whatever nonsense he was doing had I known.” 

“You needn’t apologize. You’re hardly responsible for the actions of this buffoon,” said Vergil as he gently lifted his teacup, which this time portrayed the black silhouette of a stag in front of a moon. 

“Still I could have given you a bit of warning beforehand. He really likes to get into people’s heads more than he should. Perhaps I can make it up to you for that at least?” Y/N smiled as she tilted her head ever so slightly at him. 

Vergil curiously cocked a brow at her. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well I don’t have anyone coming over for dinner anytime soon, if you catch my drift. Hate for all my leftovers to be just given all to Dante and no one else,” Y/N laughed. 

“I’d take her up on that offer, junior. Girl makes a damn good pasta that’s probably better than most places around here can offer,” Zane added with a teasing smirk. “Who knows, you might just find something even better than her baking. Though, if you don’t want it, then I suppose that I–”

Y/N merely rolled her eyes, not even turning to look at the demon as she whacked him in the arm. “I feed you enough as is, go find someone else’s plans to crash.” 

“Aww, what? No room for a third for your dinner date?”

“The more you talk the more I’m going to turn you into a popsicle. So help me Nyx, I’ll–” Y/N began before being cut off by the loud ringing of a telephone from the front of the store. She glanced back to Zane with an unamused expression before turning to Vergil with a soft smile. “I’ll be right back. Try to ignore whatever bullshit comes out of this one while I’m gone.” Without another word she got off her stool and moved off toward the front, leaving the pair alone for the time being. 

“ _ Sooooo _ , _Verge, Vergil, Vergy boy_ ,” Zane began as Vergil glared at him, already mentally preparing himself for whatever foolishness was about to come out of the demon’s mouth. “I see you have a thing for my student. Not that you’re exactly good at hiding it. Though I can definitely see the appeal.” 

“I’m not going to fall for whatever tricks you have this time,” Vergil growled. 

“Oh come now! Don’t be such a tight-ass! Have a sense of humor will you?  _ Sheesh _ . So dramatic! You know, I wasn’t lying when I said I had no desire to harm her. If anything the only real victim here is probably her pantry at best but that’s neither here nor there.” 

Vergil merely narrowed his eyes as he sipped his tea, choosing to bite his tongue for the time being, wanting to spare his witch any house damages. He wasn’t exactly sure of what to make of this smart-mouthed trickster. He had technically been true to his word so far, though he was definitely also keen on provoking the elder son of Sparda without any real restraint. And here he thought Dante of all people couldn’t possibly be topped as being–as Vergil so unfortunately dubbed him–“top agitator of the year.” Though, the more Vergil studied this demon, he could at least understand the method behind it. How else better to deal with one’s foe than to know what makes them tick? A very dirty but also very useful strategy. 

Vergil silently groaned as he grabbed one of the decorated cupcakes. There was a pleasant scent of vanilla and citrus that pleased the half-devil greatly, finding a moment of reprieve in the moment of silence and skillfully crafted treat. Still, there was one other thing that lingered in Vergil’s mind as he watched the demon carefully from across the table, brows knit in thought. 

“Careful, handsome, your face might just get stuck like that if you hold it for too long,” Zane smirked as he playfully cocked his head at Vergil, eyes practically sparkling with fiendish delight. 

“Y/N mentioned you knew my parents…Is this true?” Vergil asked finally, noting the way the demon’s brow slightly raised in what he could only guess was surprise. 

“Ah, yes, the fair and elegant Eva and the over-sized beetle that was my pupil. How could I ever forget them,” Zane chuckled, his features softening as he sighed. “You know I had to give the idiot pointers on flirting and courting when he first told me he caught her eye. Poor bastard didn’t know a damn thing about wooing a woman like her. She wasn’t some mere succubus or something of the sort. She was a woman of grace, intellect, strength, and dignity. Hard to find a woman with all three of such qualities, especially in those days; let alone in the demon world.” 

“You speak awfully high of my mother.” 

“Of course! Why shouldn’t I? I have nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for a woman such as herself, especially knowing the complications and risks of what could follow in not only coupling with a demon, but also having children with one. Carrying and birthing hybrids such as you and your brother is never easy business. And that’s hardly the tip of the iceberg,” Zane chuckled as he smiled. “I hope heaven was kind enough to spare her a spot just for her. Fates know she deserves that much.” 

“You met her from my father? But then how did you–”

“Hm? Oh right, the bug. I’ve known him since the day he was but a little maggot worming his way up the demonic ladder and looking to get stronger. Him and of course that overgrown, pompous, three-eyed pigeon that was Mundus,” Zane sighed, leaning back in his seat before placing both feet onto the table. “I denied their pleas to train them as my own countless times but they came back more annoyingly persistent every single time. Despite how things turned out centuries later I am glad to see at least one of them turned out alright in the end. Taught them everything they know…albeit far from everything I know. After all, a good gambler never reveals their full deck till the very end.” 

Vergil couldn’t help but blink in disbelief, unsure if he was more thrown off on his father being compared to an insect or the fact that somehow this man had been the very one to train his father. The man who would start it all and train two of the most powerful demons in the entire Underworld. Just who was this man? If he was strong enough to train and tutor both, then just how strong was he? 

“And if you’re wondering how and why a demon like me got wrapped up with a witch like Y/N, well let’s just say her mom and I have a history and I owe her quite a large number of favors. Too many to count in fact. Thankfully I haven’t come to regret taking care of her yet,” Zane chuckled as he toyed with his teacup. “Probably one of the few decent witches left in this town I’d say. Nowadays it’s filled with power hungry leeches who’ll work with anyone to be top dog again. Especially with the unholy shitfest that was that infestation of the Qliphoth.” 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed upon hearing that last part, his head tilted slightly. “You mean the Red Grave Coven?” 

“The one in the same. Damn witches can never leave good enough alone. They basically have a stranglehold in this town that forces most lone wolves and smaller coven circles to pick sides with the other choice usually being a slow, inevitable death in one way or another. They like to play on the idea of strength in unity, never bothering to mention that while they have strength in numbers, the freedom that comes with it is little more than an illusion. A pretty gilded cage at best. Sure you may be  _ ‘safe’  _ in a way, but are you really ‘ _ free? _ ’” 

It didn’t take much for Vergil to be able to sense the malice in the demon’s words, easily able to pick up the resentment and anger that churned beneath the waves of his cold and biting words. That, and there was something cold and sharp in the devil’s eye that gleamed like a dagger in moonlight. While he didn’t know too much about this coven beyond what his witch had told him, he could clearly tell that they were nothing but trouble at best. 

“Y/N told me they keep digging up her mother’s past. Just what is it about her and Y/N that they care so much about? While I do not doubt her powers are strong it doesn’t make sense to waste so much time pursuing one mere woman,” Vergil said, earning a bitter laugh from Zane as he tossed his head back before looking back at the Dark Slayer with tired eyes. 

“Long story short, her mother...She was a very powerful woman. She could cut and make a deal with any entity; demon, angel, fae, you name it. There was no one and nothing she couldn’t deal with. Hell, I’ve seen her run some of the more respected crossroad demons through the ringer with how she could talk them into giving what she wanted. Her clever mind and tongue alone made her one of the most feared and respected witches in history. I can’t think of a single witch these days who doesn’t try and chase her shadow. She was an enchantress among witches and sorceresses–to some she was practically even a god in some respects. Though, with her passing—which is a whole other cluster-fuck of a matter at best—they seek other ways of obtaining what remains of her magic,” Zane explained, staring down into the teacup. 

“Starting with her own flesh and blood,” Vergil added with a heavy sigh, hands balled into tightened and nearly shaking fists. “It seems as though I haven’t the only one seeking to chase the ghosts of the past.” 

“Yes, though from what I’ve heard, you’ve at least wizened up. Matron Calyssa and the other matron sisters? Unfortunately they’ve only become more persistent. That damn tree simply gives them more of an excuse for their bullshit.” Zane growled before setting down the cup and running a hand through his long black hair. 

“Why haven’t you simply dealt with them then?” Vergil asked. 

“Oh trust me, if it were that simple I happily would. However there’s always the risk of pact ties being triggered and a full on war between demons and other creatures being thrown into the fray, and while demons might not care about fighting a civil war–”

“There’s also the fate of the human world to consider,” Vergil finished, sighing as he sat back in his chair and ran a hand down his face. “Then it’s also true then…they tried to force her to–”

“Yes. They were planning to use her to summon one of the more powerful demons to serve and protect them. Specifically the prince of the circle of treachery…my brother.” Zane sighed, his eyes turning to the window as he stared out into the dreary rainy view of the city. 

“Your–your brother? A prince of hell? But I thought Mundus–”

“Isn’t the only lord kicking around in the underbelly. While he took over as head honcho after the original demon king left, it did not mean there weren’t other rulers. Mundus simply took the chance amidst the chaos to take the fruit for himself and use his new power to force everyone to step in line. After all, absolute power rules overall down there, so who were they to oppose?” Zane asked with a shrug. “Not to say the princes simply vanished per say. Rather they more so held the role of lords and dukes under Mundus. But now with him out of the picture, they’ve been able to fully embrace their titles and roles once more.” 

“I see…but this brother of yours…did he–”

“Force himself on her? Try and smooth talk his way into getting a deal out of her? Hah! Please, as if. As much as I like to shit on the guy, my brother is too much of a gentleman to ever force such things believe it or not. He doesn’t believe that proper pacts should be by any means tricked, forced or by any means coerced. He’s a mostly honest and respectable man as far as demons go. Quite ironic for a prince of treachery and betrayal really, though also oddly poetic in a certain light as Y/N often describes it.” Zane let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head. “Besides I can confidently say you and your brother are far from being the first demons she’s earned the affections of. Turns out she’s got quite the pension for charming cold and brooding men.” 

“ **_I’m. NOT, Brooding_ ** ,” Vergil huffed as he stared with unamused eyes. 

“Yes, yes, and next you’re going to tell me you’re the Queen of England. My point is, if anyone was going to be harmed that night, it was going to be Calyssa and the matrons—that is, had it not been for Y/N. Considering the psychological warfare she had been through and the physical state she was in…the important thing was to simply take her somewhere safe and far away from Calyssa and the others. He’s been something of a faithful guard dog to her ever since. Her own personal black knight, if I dare say so myself,” Zane sniggered before sipping his tea. “Down there they know him as Malice, though Y/N just prefers to simply call him Markus. Likes to make him feel special that way.” 

Before Vergil could press for anymore questions, the witch had finally returned, this time looking exhausted as she slipped back into her seat with a loud groan, gently resting her head against Vergil’s arm. “I swear there’s no rest for the wicked.” 

“Was it the old Russian grandmothers from down the street or the Italian widows from the downtown apartments?” Zane asked, having quickly slipped back into his previous playful and relaxed demeanor. 

“Ugh, I wish! At least they give me nice homemade things as extra for my services,” Y/N said, grabbing one of the nearby knitted blankets before wrapping it around herself. “It was one of the usual ones trying to stir trouble as usual.” 

“…Was it one of the Red Grave Coven again?” Vergil asked, brow cocked as he gently looked down at her, briefly appreciating the wholesome design knitted into the blanket, distinctly noting the hint of culturally Russian aesthetics. The sigh that she had let out only confirmed Vergil’s suspicions. 

“They keep pestering me about the Hallow’s Eve Gala. I could die tomorrow and I’d wager everything I own to say they’d still pester me about attending,” she sighed, gently closing her eyes briefly before turning to Zane. “I doubt I need to tell you which one it was.”

“Was it  _ you-know-who _ again?” Zane chuckled with a playful smirk as Y/N merely let out a low groan of confirmation. “She really just doesn’t know when to quit…And to think you two were almost an item.” Vergil’s brow raised curiously at the phrase as he exchanged curious looks with the pair. 

“And yet I couldn’t be happier that I dodged that bullet. I’ll take devils and the like over foolish backstabbers any day. At least one knows how to be obvious with you when it comes to their intentions, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” the witch sighed, still resting against Vergil’s arm, who didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it. “I don’t know whether to say she’s just that desperate to willfully blind herself or is just pathetically naive to keep staying with the coven–even if not all of them have pacts to fall back on.” 

“Isn’t this the twelfth time that she’s pestered you about coming back?” Zane asked, grabbing one of the cupcakes. “You’d think she’d have given up after the fifth or sixth try. I’m not sure whether to call her determined or just down right stubborn.” 

“Painfully persistent sounds about right for their type,” Vergil remarked, gently adjusting the witch’s blanket as it began to slide off her arm. “Would you like any help keeping them away?” 

Y/N stared at him for a moment, blinking in surprise before slowly getting up and gently shaking her head. “No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. The last thing I want is for them to get any ideas involving you or the others. I’m sure your father’s past has already caused enough problems for you. You don’t deserve to have to deal with mine as well.”

“Even though they’re practically harassing you at this point? I’ve seen a number of them watching your shop whenever I come by. You could at least let me scare them off,” Vergil countered with a small huff. “I’m surprised this other friend of yours hasn’t done so himself.” 

“ _ Other friend…? _ Oh. You mean Markus,” Y/N said before turning to Zane with a cocked brow. “I thought I heard his name come up. I’m surprised he didn’t freeze you solid just for mentioning him.” 

“Oh I’m positive he still will if and when given the chance when I see him later,” Zane snorted. “And trust me, my dearest brother and I have marked this place all over. They may stay gone for awhile but they always come back. Just like the cockroaches they are. They just refuse to leave our poor favorite neighborhood witch alone.” 

“Not until I seal an  _ official  _ pact anyway,” the witch sighed as she rolled her eyes before cracking her neck. “I swear they’re intent on giving me away only when they feel like it.” 

“Giving you away? If I didn’t know any better that would infer–” 

“That it sounds a lot like a wedding? Yeah, well, it basically kinda is. It’s the marrying of two souls as they are bound together in their contract through each one’s will. With how big of a deal these pact ceremonies are and how the witches are often dolled up, honestly it’s hardly far off from simply being an incredibly unorthodox marriage and unholy matrimony, I shit you not. As the famous question is so often asked: Would you wed yourself to the devil?” Zane asked as his tone turned dark and the air around them almost seemed to chill for a moment before turning back to normal. 

It went without saying that Vergil was by no means content with the idea of his dear witch simply being “wedded” and bound to some demonic abomination simply because she had no other choice. It stirred something in him that coiled and chased, causing his jaw to briefly clench and hairs to stand on their ends. He could see why most witches would turn to such a deal for power, knowing all too well what it’s like to live without it, though the very idea of someone such as his witch to be forced into such an “agreement” with some random demonic piece of filth. It would be a lie to say his blood didn’t boil.

“So what did ol’ Gwen try and use on you this time?” Zane asked with a knowing look. “After all, if it is her, which it probably is, since I doubt Matron Calyssa would be bugging you again this soon--especially not with me in town--then it certainly explains your mood. Though, then again, knowing her, that’s probably why she’s still trying to win you back anyway. After all, little by little, the water wears away the stone, young grasshopper.”

Y/N merely groaned before begrudgingly nodding, running her hand down her face. “To think I used to be sweet on her once upon a time.”

Vergil cocked a brow at the phrase as he looked over to her, a slight mixed look of curiosity and concern in his eyes. “One of your former coven members, I take it?”

“Tragically, yes,” Y/N replied as she took a large swig of tea. “Between that and our other bit of shared history involving them, she and the matrons like to make my permanent departure all the more complicated.”

“And what better way to do it than to do it via manipulative, emotionally based psychological warfare via ex-girlfriends. Truly peak romance, real ten out of ten,” Zane scoffed.

“You say that like we were ever official,” Y/N scoffed bitterly with a dismissive snort.

“Let’s be honest my dear, even if you two never said you were, your actions sure said otherwise,” Zane countered with a knowing smirk. “And of course it’s just like Gwen to never let things go. Pretty face and well book learned, but more stubborn than even more so than the most fickle of oxen.”

“You’re not helping,” Y/N growled as she shoved one of the cupcakes into her mouth, brows narrowed. 

“Is she going to be a problem?” Vergil asked. “If you need some help–”

“No, no! Please, you don’t have to do that,” Y/N interrupted. “Gwen may be stubborn and a pain in the ass, but trust me she’s not worth your time. I can deal with her. I don’t want to trouble me with this mess of a situation more than it already has.” 

“I assure you, you’re more than welcome to ‘trouble me’ as much as you please. I’ve certainly done so to you more than enough times, have I not?” Vergil countered with a slight smirk. “I assure you, have more than the endurance to handle it.” 

“Well–I mean–I suppose, but–” Y/N stammered, blinking while trying to recover from her flustered expression. 

“Careful, junior, she might just try out that ‘endurance’ of yours in more ways than one if you let–Ahhh! ” Zane began before his chair was quickly forced back from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. “Ow! Geez, was that really necessary?” Zane whined as he rubbed his head, huffing slightly at the clearly unamused witch. 

“You were asking for it.” 

“Maybe, but I wasn’t exactly lying now was I?” Zane countered, quickly ducking one of the incoming books that came flying past his head. “Alright, alright! I get it, you want to stay humble and mysterious in front of your boyfriend. Sheesh. Just get a room and kiss already. No need for the stupid masquerade and games, just saying.” 

“Don’t you have an electrical system to fix upstairs? I’m tired of the AC and heating systems malfunctioning because of your damn lightning storms,” Y/N yelled, already bringing back the book from before for another attack. 

“Alright! Okay! Hold your fire, sweetheart, I’m going! Sheesh, and here I thought you wanted to jump the stud already,” Zane laughed, quickly dodging the book with ease as he teleported across the room with a flicker of lightning. “Have fun with your lover boy! Try not to tear the kitchen to shreds!” 

With that, the pair were left alone, Y/N now covering her face with her hand to try and hide the heat that had begun to pool in her features while cursing the demon from high heaven to low hell. “I’m going to turn him into my new reading room rug one of these days, I swear.” 

Vergil could hardly help but smirk a little despite feeling slightly bad for his witch’s poor embarrassment. He did have to admit it was a little fun watching her be the one to squirm for a change rather than her constantly teasing him almost every time he came over to enjoy her company. Though, at the same time, he did much prefer the absence of the older demon and his lack of teasing. Suddenly his annoyances with Dante seem rather mild when compared to this demon of hers. Though, then again, he was almost sure that if Dante had as much time to come up with as many quips and taunts as this demon has probably had over the past 10,000 years he was sure he’d be just as annoying. 

Letting out a loud sigh, Y/N finally turned back to Vergil. “Once again I apologize for whatever nonsense that idiot put you through. I swear he isn’t always this bad when he isn’t bored.” 

“It’s fine, Y/N. You needn’t apologize for his foolish behavior. Though, he was somewhat enlightening for certain matters while you were busy. So I suppose it wasn’t a complete waste of my time.”

Y/N had let out a snort as she shook her head and laughed, her infamously charming smile creeping back onto her face before letting out a breath and turning back to Vergil. “Did he give you the information you were looking for regarding your parents.”

“He did. This and a bit more,” Vergil admitted, his eyes slightly narrowing. “Y/N, if you’ll allow me to ask, just how long has this coven of yours been harassing you like this?”

The witch stared at him for a moment, almost as though contemplating something. She could tell the cambion well enough to know he wasn’t normally the type to pry into such matters, though the look of concern in his eye told her enough to know his reasons behind it. “Well, if you truly must know…I left the coven about four years ago. Though it’ll be this five this coming month. It wasn’t so bad at first. Just minor things here and there, but nothing I couldn’t ignore. I suppose they were worried that I’d send the boys after them if they did…which wouldn’t be too far off at that time.” 

“But then that changed, didn’t it?” Vergil asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Yeah…about a year or so in and next thing I know I was persistently getting calls, letters and even visits from my former members, always asking when I was going to change my mind and just forget about everything. They even tried to bribe me at one point. Offered to make me a head priestess and everything.” Y/N took another swig of her tea, her grip on the cup tightening as she looked down at the table tiredly. “I have my theories about why they might want to have me back but—I just— _ I can’t…I can’t go back there _ . It took everything and a demon’s help to break my chains. I refuse to give into them so easily. I’m done being their plaything and their puppet—even if that means being shunned and abandoned by the rest of the world. They’ll have to drag back my cold dead body before I concede to their will.” 

Vergil could see the way her form shook with every word, noting the way liquid began to pool in the corner of her eye, though refusing to fall. The pain in her voice was all too familiar to Vergil, a familiar piece of the past tearing and tugging from the back of his mind. He knew such a nightmare all too well, though wished it upon no one, least of all her. Moving tentatively, Vergil placed a gentle hand onto her own, giving it a light squeeze before speaking. 

“You’re right. You won’t go back, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be all alone. Not if I can help it,” Vergil whispered to her. “We will help you however we can. I won’t stand to see you become some hapless bird in a gilded cage.” 

A soft chuckle escaped the witch’s mouth, a small bitter smile forming as she turned to look at him, a small single tear falling down the side of her face; though never reaching the bottom as Vergil wiped it from her face. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything. But I’m choosing to regardless,” Vergil countered with knitted brows. “There is no power for those bound in chains. What is power when you don’t have the freedom to rightfully choose it?” Vergil toyed with his cup for a moment before looking up. “Sometimes the best choice we can make is treading down the road less traveled by–regardless of what it is that may come.” Pausing for a moment in thought, Vergil would then begin to recite:

**_“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_ **

**_And sorry I could not travel both_ **

**_And be one traveler, long I stood_ **

**_And looked down one as far as I could_ **

**_To where it bent in the undergrowth;_ **

**_Then took the other, as just as fair,_ **

**_And having perhaps the better claim,_ **

**_Because it was grassy and wanted wear;_ **

**_Though as for that the passing there_ **

**_Had worn them really about the same,_ **

**_And both that morning equally lay_ **

**_In leaves no step had trodden black._ **

**_Oh, I kept the first for another day!_ **

**_Yet knowing how way leads on to way,_ **

**_I doubted if I should ever come back._ **

**_I shall be telling this with a sigh_ **

**_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_ **

**_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_ **

**_I took the one less traveled by,_ **

**_And that has made all the difference.”_ **

There was a pregnant pause in the air as the two sat by one another, both seemingly coming to enjoy the bittersweet silence as the rain gently fell against the windowsill, the gentle clap of thunder rumbling in the distance. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as she softly smiled at the dark slayer, shaking her head slightly.

“I see you’ve enjoyed the collection of Frost poems I gave you the other day. Perhaps I should let you keep it for the solace you’ve so generously given this pitifully lonesome witch,” the witch said as she carefully released her grip on her cup. “Thank you, Vergil. I’m sorry if I seem like I’m trying to push you away, it’s just–”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Y/N. You simply wish to protect everyone. I’m able to understand that much, though that doesn’t mean we can’t return the favor,” Vergil said with a slightly smirk as he gave her hand a squeeze. “Besides, I’d like to see these matrons try to handle a son of Sparda.”

Y/N had let out a snort, softly laughing to herself as she shook her head. “Good to see I’m not the only one with a few aces left in my pocket. But hey, let’s take a break from the doom and gloom here for a minute and enjoy these before they start to get stale. I’d hate for my baking to always end up going to your brother.”

Vergil scoffed at the thought as he finished off the cupcake he had been slowly working on. “I’m starting to understand how you tolerate Dante so well. Your friend makes him seem like child’s play.”

“Trust me, if you think he was intolerable today, just wait till you see him when he’s even more bored,” Y/N laughed as she rolled her eyes. “So…still up for dinner this week?”

Vergil gave the witch a warm smile as he chuckled at her, gently pushing back a strand of hair from her face. “It would be foolish to turn up such an offer.”

“That you would be indeed. If you think my tea, desserts and breakfast meals are to die for, just wait till I give you a proper meal,” the witch smirked teasingly with a wink. “So how does tomorrow at 7 sound?” 

“I’d be an utter fool to dare miss it for the world,” Vergil whispered, his face but a mere few inches away from hers, the pair just speaking enough for the other to hear. 

“Good. After all, only an idiot with a death wish would dare stand up a witch on a first date,” Y/N winked with a teasing grin, though such words could never sound sweeter than even the finest nectar for Vergil. Even now, he was certain that one way or another, it would be a night neither of them would ever forget.

**_This much, at least, the Fates would more than kindly ensure._ **


	6. Of Blood and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What begins as a simple day for prepping for the meal between friends quickly takes a turn as shadows and questions of the past begin to take the stage, literal and metaphorical demons alike coming to haunt the Dark Slayer and the Witch. What starts as hope blooming with the sweet scent of blooming flowers quickly becomes stained with dark sanguine. Once forgotten and discarded faces from the past step into the light, bringing forth the first rumblings of the coming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Just a quick heads up, there's brief mention of blood and violence in this chapter about midway through.

**Chapter 6: Of Blood and Flowers**

There was an unusually cheery spring in Vergil’s step since his meeting with his witch that afternoon. Although she had supposedly joked about tomorrow night’s dinner to be a date, there was still a slight emotional high that the half devil found himself stuck with. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, though he didn't mind it either surprisingly enough. Yet, despite the buzzing warmth in his chest, there was still a concern lingering in the back of his mind. He had been planning what to bring for the dinner for a while now, eyeing a selection of wines and even a little something to bring for his dear witch, not wanting to leave all the cooking purely to her--even if she was offering to make him a home cooked meal for two as an apology for her mentor’s mischief. 

Speaking of which, Vergil was quite content to have not seen the demon much after that fateful encounter. The weather was still a bit cloudy since that day, but it had mostly mellowed out to that of an occasional light drizzle, more befitting of the autumn weather. Though he hardly blamed her for the fool’s nonsense, he certainly didn’t mind the idea of finally being able to spend time together with her without any interruptions. __ Namely hoping for a distinct lack of infuriating van horns to kill the mood.

Though, there was one mild annoyance that lingered in the back of his mind during his preparations for his “date.” An annoyance by the name of Dante no less. Though, not because of his usual antics, but rather for namely the opposite. Dante, despite his taunts, had been oddly quiet as of late, which did little to comfort the older twin’s suspicions. Just what was this fool up to? What was he planning? Did he know something that his brother had overlooked? Either way, there was rarely a moment where such concerns left the dark slayer’s mind. 

“Getting ready for your date, lover boy?” Dante said, not bothering to look away from the magazine he was reading as Vergil was passing after returning from one of the nearby shops. 

Vergil raised a suspicious brow at his younger brother. “So what if I am? Is there something you wish to say? Or are you going to lurk in your silence more?” 

“Who’s lurking? I’m just letting you have a piece of the action,” Dante replied with a smug grin as he shrugged and tossed his magazine to the side. 

“Since when do you ever believe in letting me enjoy things in peace?” Vergil asked, eyes narrowing as he slowly approached the devil hunter. “Just what is it you’re planning, you fool?”

“Sheesh, Verg, I set you up with the local hot witch doctor and you accuse me of sabotage? You wound me,” Dante chuckled, feigning hurt as he held a hand to his chest. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me for my services?” 

“Seeing as how you clearly had no intent on introducing us sooner--let alone even mentioning her at any point to me prior--such a thing is up for debate,” Vergil dismissed. “Whatever it is you’re planning, I suggest you disregard it. I’ve had to deal with enough interruptions as is.”

“Hahaha, what’s wrong? Has the kid cocked blocked you again?” Dante laughed with a smug grin. “Seems like a fair punishment for ripping off that arm of his. You know what they say about karma, Verg.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you said,” Vergil grumbled, rolling his eyes before turning away to move upstairs. “I won’t hesitate to send you through a wall should you try anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t. Oh! And don’t forget to wear your heels!” Dante yelled, narrowly dodging a summoned sword as the door to Vergil’s bedroom slammed close, leaving the legendary devil hunter alone. 

“Tsk, tsk. Try to do a man a favor and he throws it back at you,” Dante chuckled with a sigh as he shook his head. Dante looked over to the photo of his mother, smiling softly as he picked it up, gently rubbing his thumb over her picture. “What can I say, mom? Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.” Putting the photo down, Dante turned to the phone on his desk, the wheels turning in his head. 

Perhaps it was about time he paid a visit to the witch herself. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the incident when he had brought Vergil in, and he was sure she had a job or two to throw at him, and with a decent amount of pay with it. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, Dante ran a hand through his hair and began to head out, a sly grin on his face. 

He loved the red velvet cake with roses that she had given him as his monthly bonus, hiding it away to savor it and keep it away from Lady and Trish. Y/N had been an odd godsend since the two had met through Nero. She was smart, funny, good at cooking, and had a left hook that could kill a man if she wanted to. Dante himself had been at the end of one of those left hooks after accidently walking in on her while coming out of the shower after snooping around for her “secret” dessert pantry that Nico had told him about previously. As much as it hurt and took the wind out of him, Dante would be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little impressed to say the least. Though, truth be told, he was just glad she hadn’t turned him into a newt or toad for it. He very nearly kissed her the first time she had gifted him one of her legendary Devil’s Delight cakes, which of course ended with a swift smack to the face with one of her books. 

Spotting her shop, Dante grinned to himself, humming quite contently before heading inside. “Hey, Y/N! Got anything good for your favorite hunter?” 

“If you’re looking for more scraps to take, you’ll have to wait,” Y/N called from the kitchen before rounding the corner, cocking a brow at him as she placed her dish rag over her shoulder. “You better be looking for work. I won’t have you messing with your brother more than usual, thank you.”

Dante had quickly put up his hands in defense. “At ease, my lady! I come in peace!”

Y/N’s brows narrowed before rolling her eyes, sighing. “Enjoy the cake I sent you?”

“As if I couldn’t enjoy something with your magic touch,” laughed Dante as he leaned against the glass counter, glancing over the assortment of baked goods she had set up. “Just wanted to make sure ol’ Verg wasn’t causing any trouble for you. I’d hate to leave you with the ice king for long.”

The witch let out a loud snort as she shook her head. “I can handle my share of brooding ice kings just fine, thank you. It’s not hard to melt all that ice once you know where to apply the heat just right.” 

“Ever the snake charmer I see,” Dante hummed, earning a snort from the witch. 

“Better than the idiot charmer. Though I seem to attract my share of those all the same,” Y/N scoffed as she stared at him knowingly. “Why are you really here, Dante. You’ve been unusually quiet and distant lately.” 

“Awww, what’s wrong? Have you been missing me that much, Y/N? I’m touched,” Dante grinned with a wink, earning an eye roll and a light smack from the witch. “Maybe I just missed pestering my favorite neighborhood witch?” 

“Now  _ THAT  _ I can believe,” Y/N scoffed as she shook her head at him. “If you’re looking for work, I have the jobs over there on the table in an envelope. I made sure to keep the details secret from  _ those two _ by the way. Figured you’d have enough debts to pay as is. Though do yourself a favor and try not to spend it all on overpriced coats.”

“I wouldn’t need more coats if they didn’t keep on getting ruined,” Dante said. 

“They wouldn’t keep on being ruined if you didn’t let yourself get stabbed every other week,” Y/N countered with a pointed look. “Also for the love of your poor wallet, just have me fix them up. Trust me, your starved wallet and wardrobe will thank you.” 

“You see this is why I need you in my life, Y/N. You’re an angel sent from above.” 

“An angel of death maybe,” Y/N snorted. “If you really want to help me, do me a favor and try not to terrorize him too much about our little arrangement. Things are complicated enough as is and Nero and Nico have been enough of a pain as is these past few days.” 

“...He really doesn’t remember, does he?” Dante asked after a moment of silence, taking notice of the slight twitch in her stance as she kept her back turned to him. Dante lowered his voice as his tone turned more serious. “It really doesn’t bother you at all?”

The witch didn’t reply as first, merely opting to remain silent as she rubbed the dish rag against one of the nearby shelves. Although Dante couldn’t see her face, he didn’t have to be a genius to pick up on the stiffness in her body language upon hearing the subject. “I don’t see how any of that matters. It’s not like asking him about him would do either of us any good anyway. It’s not as though he’d magically remember everything anyway, let alone suddenly regain all of those very same emotions as well. After all, he is both V and Urizen. One part cannot entirely control the whole. I wouldn’t be too surprised if he’s missing a piece that formed with the other or something.”

Dante’s brow narrowed as his arms folded across his chest. “Still, how does that sit right with you? Shouldn’t you know the exact reasoning as to why he doesn’t remember you? He remembered Nero and the bond he formed with him just fine. Why the hell shouldn’t he remember you?” 

“How the hell should I know?! Dammit, Dante, I’m not some omniscient being! Hell, if I knew why, don’t you think I’d have done something by now?!” Y/N finally snapped as she turned to him, body shaking with rage as her eyes burned like hellfire, fist slamming onto the counter. “What’s done is done and there’s no changing that. Trust me... _ I’ve tried _ .” Y/N looked down at her hand, staring at it as her fingers slowly curled into a fist, her form still trembling. “I don’t know how or why he doesn’t remember me or the time we spent. But then again, who knows? Maybe that time doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was nothing more than milk and honey in a moment of blood and chaos--a bittersweet taste to rule them all. And all dreams must come to an end eventually, and so we are simply left to enjoy what little bit of that very dream remains.” 

Dante stared hard at the witch, noting the way her body slightly trembled as she continued to deny him her gaze. He wanted to reach out to her and hold her tight, to try and somehow convince her that they could somehow fix this--though even he knew there wasn’t exactly an easy way of fixing something when you can’t pinpoint the source of the brokenness to begin with. Dante knew the witch well enough that even though she liked to keep a cool and easy going face most of the time, he knew all too well of the chaotic and destructive storm that had been brewing in her for as long as he could remember--freezing over and destroying all it touched like a blizzard born in a thunderstorm. Supposedly, according to Morrison, the Red Grave City Coven had dubbed her “The Ice Queen of Red Grave.” You wouldn’t tell at first from the warmth she gives off, though once you begin to pull off those reflective walls of steel, you begin to see the hellish cold that lies within. All the while it did little besides snuff out whatever semblance of spring that would try and take root. She was tough, that much Dante of all people had no doubt. But, at the same time, he could still sense the phantom pains from the scars that the world had left on her. 

“Sure maybe he doesn’t remember your time with him then...but maybe that doesn’t have to matter,” Dante finally said after a long pregnant pause as he turned to the witch with a sly grin. 

The witch didn’t turn to Dante, merely standing silently for a time before ever so slightly turning her gaze to him, brows knit with suspicion. “What is it you’re getting at this time exactly?”

“Well, who says he needs to have his full memories to rekindle those feelings from two years ago. You seem to have made quite the spark with him already--and lemme tell you when I say ol Verg ain’t exactly a social butterfly. I can barely get the guy to go out with us for drinks,” Dante laughed, smiling warmly at Y/N as he leaned against the counter. “Think you can melt that ice of his like you did last time?” 

Y/N stared at the legendary devil hunter with a mixed look of curiosity and wariness, not quite sure of what to make of his suggestion. Turning around to face him entirely, she cocked a brow at him. “And let’s say this little plan of yours doesn’t work and nothing comes of it, what then?” 

“Well then I’ll just have to do what I do best and kick his ass,” Dante laughed, earning an eye roll and slight reluctant smile from the witch. 

“I swear sometimes all you Sons of Sparda know how to do is fight,” Y/N softly scoffed with a faint sigh before shaking her head. “I’ll humor this idea of yours for now--though if you try anything funny yourself, your brother will be the least of your concerns, capiche?” 

Dante could feel the ever so slight shift in temperature in the air as the witch spoke, noting the faintest glimmer of a ice blue shimmer in her eyes, which disappeared as quickly as it had first come. Dante couldn’t help but smirk. As much as he didn’t want to be turned into a cambion popsicle, he was much more pleased with seeing her annoyed than depressed. After all, if getting on her nerves kept that fire in her alive, then by all means he’d be more than willing to take a few dozen blasts of ice and lightning every now and again for his antics. 

“Now if you’re done loitering in my shop, I have packages to send out,” the witch smirked, lightly smacking the devil hunter’s arm with her rag in an attempt to shoo him out. “Go take your jobs and get. Once your done I’ll send Corvo over with the payment. Oh, and be sure to bring me any leftovers you have from the fights. I’ll be willing to throw in a little extra if you get anything particularly useful.” 

“Are you going to make a new skin care lotion out of it or something?” Dante smirked teasingly. “I guess I do have a few dry spots and wrinkles I need to smooth out. Guy like me has to keep up his looks you know, especially with my funds.” 

“Perhaps if you weren’t constantly ruining your expensive coats and damaging private property, perhaps your wallet would be crying less at night and you’d have a few dozen less wrinkles,” Y/N smirked. “Now run along before I send Hecate and her brothers to drag you out.” 

“Alright, alright! As her ladyship’s commands,” Dante chuckled, finally taking the witch’s hint as he picked up the envelope and began to head out, only to briefly stop as he was halfway out the door. “Oh, I don’t know about you, but if you ask me, I’d say go with that short black dress you used to wear at the bar with those matching black stockings. Trust me, I don’t think even Vergil will be able to resist.”

“It’s just a dinner between friends, Dante. Quit trying to play wingman and just go kill some demons already,” Y/N groaned, already preparing a floating dagger of ice the longer Dante continued to linger. “I’m trying to get close to him, not bed him.”

“ _ Not yet maybe, sweetheart,”  _ Dante grinned teasingly before quickly ducking out of the way of the oncoming dagger, the icy blade just barely gazing above his hair. “Just saying! You’ll both thank me for it later! Just you wait!” With that, Dante was out the door with a laugh and an oddly proud smile on his face as he tucked the envelope into his coat pocket and placed his hands behind his head. Oh yes, even if the two try and deny it, Dante could confidently say the pair were practically a match made in heaven. “I suppose I can leave the lovebirds alone for now,” Dante hummed to himself before stopping abruptly, gaze turned to a nearby ally as the flicker of a humanoid shaped shadow caught his eye. “Now to just make sure no one else ruins their fun either.” 

Vergil’s eyes scanned over the various flower displays outside of the small flower shop, his brow furrowed in thought as he attempted to settle on a suitable bouquet for tonight. He wanted to repay her for all the care and kindness she had shown him these past couple weeks. This was not even including the amount of work she had put into saving him from the deadly poison that had been coursing through his veins. His gaze glazed over collections of roses, daisies, begonias, daffodils, snapdragons and other various flowers of the like, yet none of these seemed to please him. He wanted something not only lovely to stare at, but also something poetic and fitting for a woman such as his ever clever witch. Now if only he could make a suitable choice...

“They’re lovely aren’t they?” A familiar female voice said, tearing Vergil from his thoughts. Turning to face them, Vergil’s eyes widened in surprise in finding none other than his son’s girlfriend beside him. Kyrie seemed to notice the surprise on his face as she softly giggled and smiled at him. 

“Kyrie? What are you doing here?” Vergil asked, brow narrowing curiously. 

“I was just picking up some flowers for our greenhouse when I saw you. I thought I’d come over and say hi,” Kyrie smiled as she blinked at him, hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Do you need some helping finding something? If it’s flowers, perhaps I can be of assistance.” 

Vergil raised a brow at the young woman as he stared at her, looking her up and down, noting the tray of small white flowers in her arms, oddly complimenting the faint lavender sweeter she was wearing with small flower platters woven into its design. He was hesitant to ask her regarding such matters, unsure whether or not to share the details of his upcoming engagement, almost as though worried it would lead to only yet another interruption in the long run. But then again, Kyrie seemed far more sensible than his son and his infamous partner in crime, so what could be the harm in humoring the idea of her help. Who knows, perhaps she could even prevent such interruptions from happening at all. 

“...I’m looking for a gift for...a friend,” Vergil said, choosing his words carefully as he spoke. “They’ve done a lot for me as of recent and I wish to repay them for their generosity and compassion.” 

“Oh? I see! Well then, if you just want to say thank you, you could go with roses or sweetpeas, maybe throw in some campanula,” Kyrie suggested as she briefly thought to herself. “Though...something tells me you want to do something more special. Something more meaningful.” 

“I suppose one could propose such a notion,” Vergil replied with a soft scoff as he turned his gaze to the collection of flowers. 

“Well...what kind of person is this friend? Perhaps if you tell me about them then I can help you more. Or perhaps...what it is you feel for them,” Kyrie smiled as she watched Vergil curiously. “I find that flowers are a good way of conveying things we don’t always know what to say ourselves.” 

“...I see...what I feel for her...” Vergil softly murmured, brow furrowed as he became lost in thought as the image of his witch came into his mind, eyes sparkling with fiendish delight with that same clever and knowing grin. She was so small and yet seemingly unafraid of neither demon nor man. She was a contradiction made living; dark and cold like the sea, and yet at the same time, warm and gentle like a warm spring breeze on a clear moonlit night. She had more than the patience to deal with his walls of ice and seemingly over the past couple weeks seemed to have begun to thaw his long frigid heart. She saw him not a weakling or a monster, but as a person, and perhaps even an equal and dear friend.

It was more than Vergil could ever ask for, and yet, why was it that despite all that, it alone didn’t seem to be enough? What exactly were these feelings that had buzzing around him so persistently lately, and why was it always when he was around her? What was this spell that she had on him that drove him to be like this? At first he thought that perhaps he had simply found someone who was delightful enough to share and understand his struggles and woes while still being able to share a love of tea and literature. And yet there was always his warmth that would always bubble to the surface when he’d see her, hear her voice or feel the gentle touch of her hand on his skin. Meanwhile there’d always be this longing tug on him that would always draw him back to her the moment he would leave her. 

“I admittedly feel no disdain in her presence...she brings a sense of wisdom and comfort whenever she’s around. I find it to be quite refreshing,” Vergil said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to pick his words carefully. “She doesn’t judge me for what or who I am. She shows neither fear nor disdain for me and sees me in a way I do not entirely understand, but at the same time...I don’t think I mind it.”

Kyrie had let out a soft chuckle as she smiled, nodding knowingly. “That sounds like Y/N. Nero likes her for those reasons too. She knows how to see people for more than just their bloodlines and past mistakes. She’s been a big help in helping find solace lately I think.”

Vergil’s brow raised slightly in surprise as he looked down at her. “I’m surprised he does not entirely seek it from you alone. From how he acts, I would think you are the light of his life.” 

Kyrie chuckled softly, her cheeks lightly tinged pink. “I don’t know if I would say that but I do like to think I help him where I can. I can’t imagine living without Nero after everything we’ve been through together between Fortuna and everything else. Though, that said, I know there are things that even I can’t always help him find the solace he needs despite how much I try to help. She’s been a kind and patient teacher for him if nothing else,” Kyrie smiled as she turned back to the flower shop display, eyeing the display of blue dyed roses that sat at the window. “She’s been a huge help with the children too. Between her skills as a witch and a doctor alone, I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

There was an odd sense of warm that pooled in Vergil’s chest in hearing this. It was easy to say Vergil was glad that Nero had been seeking wisdom in someone other than his idiot brother, especially someone who had proven more than competent in her skills in both combat and intellect alike. It was good to see Nero find family and friends outside of Kyrie and Nico and of course him and Dante, and although he’d never say it aloud, it was rather comforting to see his son find solace in a potential mother figure to help guide him in ways that he never could. Although he could never quite find it in him to put his pride aside and admit it directly, there was much he admired about his witch. 

_ Her determination, her passion, her compassion and strength of both mind and body despite everything threw at her and what it still continued to throw at her _ ; she seemed to have an understanding of those around her in ways that Vergil himself could not quite fully understand, and yet found an odd sense of appreciation for this all the same. She had a different kind of power about her, one that Vergil had never truly come to appreciate until now. He’d be lying if he said he did not see a piece of him inside her at times, and yet despite this, she never seemed to let her drag her down to the same paths he had so foolishly embraced. She was able to take those dark and bitter cold days and make it into something better beyond herself, and he couldn't deny wanting to learn what magic it was that allowed her to do so in the first place. 

Vergil’s eyes flickered to Kyrie, who was now watching him carefully now with an almost all too knowing look as she softly smiled at him. “I think I have just the bouquet in mind for you.” Before Vergil could even inquire as to what she had in mind, he quickly found himself being dragged inside, Kyrie carefully guiding him through step by step with each flower she had sorted for him. Kyrie had been very particular with the flowers she chose, even going through the exact meaning of each of the flowers for him. 

She had started out picking out a few violets, those which resembled loyalty and devotion, noting the particular way the dark slayer seemed intent of standing by her side despite the witch’s attempt to keep him at a more comfortable distance. From there she had decided to pick out a number of dwarf sunflowers to signify adoration, that which he most obviously held for the witch from his frequent visits to her alone in the past several weeks. From there she had chosen a mix of blue salvia and hydrangea to resemble that not only that he often thought of her, but to also convey his gratitude in understanding; something Vergil never thought he’d be able to find in another being for the sins that he had so selfishly committed. Next was a selection of red and pink camellia, which according to his apparent flower specialist, meant to convey longing and the fire which burns in one’s heart. Vergil could hardly ignore the faint yet growing warmth that pooled in his cheeks upon hearing such a statement, though was ultimately powerless to protest with the knowing look his future daughter-in-law had given him. After all, he had been the one to entrust this task to her. 

And finally, just as the pair were about to finish, Kyrie had abruptly stopped. Vergil was about to ask her why when he followed the direction of her eyes, spotting a small yet humble collection of small blue flowers that he for once recognized. 

“Forget-me-nots,” Vergil said, his gaze softening slightly at the sight. Among the red roses his mother always grew in her garden, she would always save a small patch for these small blue flowers. They weren’t nearly as big and vibrant as the roses she often grew, but rather they had a more soft and humble allure to them. Vergil distinctly remembered his mother growing them more not long after his father had since vanished from this world, and although his mother did not often speak it, there was always that distinct bittersweet glimmer in her eye whenever she would look at them, her fingers ever so glenty feeling the tiny petals as she did. 

Looking back to his visits to his dear witch, he always did note that among all the various plants she kept around the shop, there were always a few pots of these small blue flowers. Vergil even noted the few times he had seen them be incorporated into her long hair whenever she’d have it tied up. He had always appreciated her love for the small blue flower among all the others, but could never help but wonder as to why. He had always been tempted to ask her why, though could never quite find the right time to ask. 

“They’ve always been her favorite,” Kyrie noted with a tender smile, carefully selecting a dozen or so before finally adding them to the bouquet. “They’re meant to resemble remembrance, specifically the wish to not be forgotten and the true love that is held in the memories between people.”

Vergil could not quite place the reasoning as to why, but once again there was that faint and almost painful tug at his heart, almost as though trying to get his attention. Shaking his head and letting out a slightly annoyed sigh, Vergil once again decided to ignore it. While he certainly would admit to have more than enjoyed the weeks he had spent with his dear witch, there was an odd sense of bittersweetness and slight confusion that fluttered about inside him in hearing that. 

Had he truly known her that long to be able to convey such feelings? Had they perchance met her at another point but simply did not remember?  _ No, surely not _ , the Dark Slayer thought to himself as he shook his head. How could he ever come to forget someone such as her? Even amongst his foolish pride and obsession for gaining power, surely even he should remember a woman such as Y/N. He found it implausible to think that he could meet such a woman and dismiss her as being a mere passing thought. And in some odd chance of fate that they had even possibly met before, why didn’t he remember? 

“ _ I see _ ...thank you for your assistance,” Vergil nodded quietly after a pregnant pause as the two paid for the bouquet and headed outside. “Perhaps I should seek out your guidance more often in regards to such matters.” 

Kyrie had let out a soft laugh as she gently shook her head. “There’s no need to thank me, but I do appreciate it. I have a book about the language of flowers if you wish to read it for future endeavors. I’m sure Y/N will be more than impressed with your new learned knowledge.” 

“That would be most appreciated...though perhaps hide it amongst a few other things. I’d hate for either my idiot brother or son to stumble across it,” Vergil murmured as a slight tinge of pink dusted the corners of his ears, earning a faint giggle and understanding nod from Kyrie who gently patted his arm. 

“Will do. Hope you two have fun!” Kyrie smiled before waving and heading off, leaving the Dark Slayer with only his sword, thoughts and a large bouquet of flowers. Should he give these to her now or wait? While he wanted to impress her that evening, he almost couldn’t help but wanted to see her reaction now while the flowers are still fresh and vibrant. Not to mention he’d hardly want for Dante and the others to possibly risk damaging such a precious gift. Perhaps he should just drop it off ahead of time since he’ll be giving it to her anyway. That, and he still had their usual tea date scheduled for the day, and it would surely seem a waste to simply not give it to her then...

_ Besides, what’s the worst that could possibly happen?  _

Y/N’s eyes glanced over the array of ingredients the market offered. It was just that right time in the harvest season that she knew she’d be able to get the best range of ingredients for tomorrow night. She wanted to make the meal for that day extra special, wanting to ideally make the best batch of pasta she’s made yet. She had been making her grandmother’s recipe enough times now to have it memorized by heart, though it did little to lessen her determination. She had been debating as to what to do for dessert, though after “consulting” with some of small cluster of Italian grandmothers that made up a fair portion of her usual customers, she had settled on making a sweet, smooth hazelnut chocolate torte capresse that she figured her dear Dark Slayer would appreciate. It was very rare that she made it, though she’d have to make sure to keep it hidden from her usual fridge and pantry snoopers. 

She had yet to settle on an outfit for the night, though something told her that Lady and Trish would hardly resist dragging her on a shopping spree if they found out, that is assuming a certain mentor of hers didn’t do so first. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to go through such lengths to make this dinner as good as she wanted to since she had simply promised an apology dinner between friends and nothing more, though she’d be lying if she wasn’t even slightly hoping for something to happen beyond that. Though, thinking on it, she was almost half tempted to consider wearing the dress and heels that Dante had suggested earlier that day. Not to say she wanted to jump the man after dinner, though that’s not to say it wasn’t even a little tempting. 

“Gods, what’s wrong with me?” The witch groaned to herself as she shook her head, hugging the bag of groceries close to her chest. “It’s just a dinner between friends, nothing more,  _ you pathetically thirsty fool _ ...” The witch ran a hand down her face, letting out a tired sigh as she turned into the alley which served as a shortcut back to the shop. If she could get there quick enough, she should be able to get back and have everything hidden away before their usual mid-morning brunch for the day. 

She was busy rummaging her hand through her pocket for her keys when a sound from behind her caused her to freeze in her tracks. Y/N’s eyes scanned about the area, brows narrowed as she tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. As much as she wanted to dismiss it as a simple alley cat or stray dog, there wasn’t something quite right; something about how the air seemed to turn stale with the distinct stench that the witch could only compare to that of rotting flesh. 

_ “You can’t run and hide from us forever, little witch,”  _ a deep, guttural voice growled from the dark, a slick form of slime and shadow slipping into view with a consistency akin to ooze. 

Y/N felt her nose curl in disgust at the smell of rot and sulfur as her gaze turned cold, ice and lightning already beginning to form around her fingertips. “I don’t know who sent you, though we both know how this is going to end, you rotting piece of shit.” 

The demon merely laughed, showing its sharp, jagged teeth as a dark green and black viscous oozed from its mouth, fizzing the ground beneath it as it fell.  _ “As to who I serve is of no concern to you, little witch. The only thing that should concern you... is your demise.”  _

Before the witch could act she found herself being flung into the nearby brick wall, her groceries scattered all throughout the alley as she fell to the ground with a grunt. She could see the tendril of slime slinking up to grab her again, though only to be halted in its tracks following a sudden flash of blue light sliced through it with ease. The demon in front of her let out a blood curdling scream as it recoiled what remained of its down severed limb, a mixture of blood and that same acidic viscous pouring from its wound. 

“I suggest choosing your next actions very carefully, scum. Lest your be so eager to feel the wrath of a Son of Sparda,” the all too familiar voice of a certain cambion said as Yamato’s blade gleamed in the darkness. 

_ “Whaaaat...what is this--wait a minute...that  _ **_stench_ ** _...you... _ **_I KNOW YOU_ ** _ ,”  _ the demon growled, turning its form away from Y/N.  _ “I know that stench! The spawn of that traitor Sparda!” _

Now with the demon distracted, Y/N began to rise to her feet, hissing in pain as she noticed the long cut along her arm, blood oozing into rivers as it trailed down her arm and onto the concrete beneath her, meanwhile noting the small pieces of glass now stuck in arm. Most likely from the bottle of wine she bought she reckoned, noting the faint smell of wine as droplets of it stuck to her pants. 

_ Well so much for the groceries,  _ the witch internally groaned as she briefly glanced over to the mostly smooshed and shattered remains of her groceries that now littered most of the alley, only to be torn from her thoughts at the sound of growls and screams from the demon. 

_ “You waste your breath on a hapless witch, wretched spawn of Sparda! Her kind know their place! They are nothing more than worthless sacks of flesh and blood to be devoured! She--ACK!”  _

“You talk too much,” she heard Vergil merely scoff, as she held her arm, watching as those infamous summoned swords piece and slice through the demon’s putrid flesh. “Y/N! Get to safety! Leave this filth to me!” 

Despite the Dark Slayer’s instructions, the witch did not move. Instead her blood turned cold to the point where it began to burn--a cold and vicious fury taking over with the wrath of a blizzard. Although she had long suppressed such a rage for years from the abuse of Calyssa and the Coven, there was something about the demon’s words that rattled and clawed at the door she had long kept these feelings hidden behind. No matter what she did, no matter what amount of power she possessed, she was always disregarded in the end to be some helpless toy to be used and discarded. She knew Vergil of all people meant well when he insisted that she’d run and leave the demon to him, but there was something old and dark in her that demanded otherwise. 

_ Something...that demanded for blood.  _

Cold and deadly eyes turning to the form of the demon, the witch dug her fingers into the open wound of her arm, causing more blood to fall around her. Keeping her eyes locked on the infernal beast of her, she began to mutter a curse, a curse old and dark, one that most witches would dare not use on even her foulest of opponents. However, just this once, the witch was willing to forgo the social taboos regarding dark magic that involved blood. Kneeling down, she began to paint a sigil, which in the middle, resembled that of a large dark bird. 

“If it’s my blood you want, then it’s my blood you shall get...” Y/N muttered, the air around her beginning to freeze as her breath became visible and patches of frost began to form along the ground and surrounding walls. The wind around her began to pick up as her eyes glowed with an all too familiar icy blue light. The drops of blood around her began to levitate, warp, and take shape the shapes of a murder of crows, their feathers black and dark crimson as they swarmed around her. With a mere flick of her wrist and the mere whisper of a command, the sanguine birds were upon the demon. The birds would begin to merge together, forming a large, voracious bird of black and red blood, its claws and beak tearing and ripping at the demon’s form, leaving no room for escape. 

Vergil had been in the middle of preparing to Judgement Cut the demon in twain when the overpowering scent of blood filled his senses, only seeing the vibrant swarm of black and red that slew behind the demon before practically swarming the demon entirely as it howled and screamed in agony. This carried on for a few minutes before the swarm dispersed, and nothing of the demon remained, the ravens quickly disappearing as they dispersed, returning into the spray of blood they had been summoned from. Vergil could barely help but stare in shock in front of the witch as she leaned against the wall of the alley, clutching her wounded arm as she tried to catch her breath. She found herself having to hold her head as her vision briefly flickered in and out of focus before finally beginning to slide to the ground. However, before she could feel the impact of the ground, she found herself in a familiar warm embrace, the faint scent of vanilla and lavender filling her nostrils as she remained pressed against him. 

“Y/N...Y/N, speak to me! Are you alright?” Vergil asked as he tried to sit her up right, quickly taking note of the bloodied arm. “Dammit, woman, I told you to run! You didn’t need to do this to yourself like this! I could have handled it if you just--” Vergil found himself abruptly silenced as he felt a faint slap of a hand come to his mouth.

“Maybe so...but I’m not some helpless child either...I know how to fight...I don’t need anyone having to fight my battles for me...” the witch huffed between breaths, brows furrowed as her eyes remained cold and sharp like a knife. “I appreciate the help, Vergil, but I’m not going to shatter like some porcelain doll from just one attack. So please, give your witch a bit more credit than that. I’ve lived long enough to show I don’t need someone else to fight for me, haven’t I?” Gently resting herself against the wall, the witch ran a hand through her hair, letting out a tired sigh. “I don’t need other people to fight my battles for me. I’d have stayed with the coven or given myself over to some kind of pact if I felt so defenseless. But thankfully for me, I’m not. I may not be as durable in the same way as you or Dante or even Nero, but don’t count me out just yet, okay?” 

Looking up at the Dark Slayer, she watched as Vergil’s eyes softened as he let out a deep sigh, still holding onto her arms with a certain gentleness as he’d exchanged concerned looks between her face and her arm. He seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally responding. “Very well. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind from now on. Though, if you’re willing, at least allow me to fight with you since you refuse to let me fight for you.” 

Y/N chuckled softly as she shook her head and smiled at him. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. Would be nice to have someone around to watch my back more often then not. Besides, you Sons of Sparda seem more injury prone than me with your antics.” 

Vergil had merely let out a snort in response, muttering a faint “no comment” as he looked away from her, unable to hide from her the faint shade of pink gathering in his cheeks. “...Can you stand?” Vergil asked as he looked back to her, offering his arm to her uninjured one. 

“I can, just give me a moment. I’m a tad bit light-headed from the blood loss. I’ll be fine once I can patch myself up and eat something when I get home,” Y/N nodded as she allowed him to help her to her feet. Looking around, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Speaking of eating, it looks like I’m going to have to rebuy most of these...damn bastard.” Most the groceries had been either splattered, shattered or crushed. The best she could salvage were some of the few remaining tomatoes, garlic cloves and few unscathed herbs. “I’ll probably have to get Nero to pick me up some at this rate. No point in redoing all this shopping now.” 

“Were these for tomorrow night?” Vergil asked as he helped her salvage some of the remaining groceries. 

“Originally yes, though I’ll have to be a bit more creative with what I do have now at any rate,” the witch sighed as she handed over the bag to Vergil. “As much as I’d like to magically repair a number of these, I’m much too drained to do much else at the moment.” 

“What exactly was that magic you used exactly? I’ve never seen anything like that, let alone from you,” Vergil asked with a raised brow. 

“ _ Well _ ...that’s  _ technically  _ because I’m not supposed to. Not unless it’s for a worst case scenario type situation. I doubt I need to explain as to why,” Y/N added as she looked away, trying to keep her gaze away from those cool steely eyes of the man beside her, a slight tinge of embarrassment growing in her cheeks. “For most witches, any magic that uses blood, especially their own blood, should only be used for dire, worst case scenarios and is otherwise seen as taboo for the most part.” 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed as he listened to her, his grip on her just ever so slightly tightening on her much smaller and more exhausted form. “...I take it by that you’re referring to the Coven.” 

Y/N merely sighed before letting out an exasperated chuckle and nodding. “Unfortunately for me, while the Red Grave Coven is by no means weak in terms of power, their means of acquiring and maintaining that status of power--both literal and metaphorically speaking--is not exactly the most--for a lack of better words--orthodox. In their eyes, power is power, and as long as they have it and control it, then nothing else matters, regardless of the consequences as long as they’re not the ones paying for them.” 

The air around them fell quiet after that, a heavy pregnant pause filling the air as neither dare speak, only the faint sounds of their steps and the wind being the only sound around them. The witch didn’t need to think hard as to what was likely going on in the Dark Slayer’s mind, his eyes staring off into the distance and yet seemingly finding no exact mark in which to look upon. She noted the faint crease in his brow, no doubt deep in thought, lost in a sea of past nightmares and regrets he perhaps thought had left him. Noting this, she gently reached her spare hand to the one at her hip, giving it a firm and reassuring squeeze. She didn’t need to say anything, instead merely allowing her actions to speak for her. 

“Y/N.” Vergil said, his voice just barely above a whisper, not quite meeting her gaze with his eyes half closed. 

“Yes?” 

“Can you promise me something?” 

“If it’s about the blood magic, don’t worry--I won’t be doing this any time soon. God knows this cut is going to be a bitch to heal at any rate. I’ll probably have to sleep through most of tomorrow to catch up on my reserves at this rate,” Y/N chuckled, slightly turning her gaze to the blue eyed cambion, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “But in all seriousness, I promise. I won’t do anything this crazy unless I absolutely have to. You have my word.” 

She could feel the obviously held breath of relief leave his body, chuckling slightly as she shook her head. “Tell you what, since you were such a  _ dashing  _ white knight back there, why don’t I treat you to some tea and a nice nap in the sunroom? I think we both just about need it at this rate.” Although he didn’t say anything, the witch could still see the faintest hint of a smirk appear from the corner of her eye, noting the faint chuckle that came with it as he simply nodded. 

Even though it was hardly a dinner for two, suddenly a simple sun nap together paired with tea seemed like the greatest gift the dark slayer had ever been offered, and he was hardly one to turn it down. He couldn’t help but feel a sigh of relief as they managed to stumble their way into the shop, the scent of fresh flowers and dried tea leaves mingling in the air. Gently pressing the door open, Vergil carefully helped the witch inside, bringing her to the back sun room and helping her down to the black velvet loveseat. 

Y/N could feel her aching bones groan in tired delight as she felt the cool, soft velvet plush against her skin. Looking up to her cambion companion, she reached a hand out to him, somewhat gently bringing him down to sit beside her. The pair sat in content silence for a time, enjoying the warmth of the sun that bled through the windows of the room. The moment would almost seem like something akin to a dream, a moment of perfected paradise where nothing could possibly ruin this. But alas, like all such pleasant dreams, they too must come to an end. 

The faint sound of a phone ringing pierces the silence like a bullet through glass, causing the pair to let out an annoyed groan. Y/N could already feel her brow twitch at the very idea of who it could be, though also knew it to be unwise to simply allow it to continue ringing. Turning to Vergil, she gave him a bitter smile as she laughed, “No rest for the wicked, is there?” 

“T’is a luxury so few can afford,” Vergil softly chuckled as he watched her sigh, running a hand through her hair before pulling herself up from her seat. 

“Took the words right out of my mouth, handsome.  _ Ugh _ ...So be it then. I’ll be back in a few. Perhaps with some actual tea this time while I’m at it,” she smirked, patting his shoulder lightly before disappearing into the front, “Feel free to entertain yourself with whatever you please in the meantime!” 

Vergil curiously stared at the room around him, admiring the painted murals on the ceiling, curious as to whether it had come with the house or whether it had been something his dear witch had put together herself. The style of the art would certainly suit her with its archaic designs of what could tell to be a mix of angels and demons amidst a series of various painted designs. He even began to take a closer look at some of the newer additions she had since added to her collection of reading material, noting the additions of not just poetry and prose, but also noticing additions of philosophy, art and music, which were all paired nicely with a collection of what he could tell were old vintage albums, the records themselves being in remarkably fine condition. He recognised a number of these from his childhood, most notably artists such as Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Celano and so on. Vergil couldn’t help but smile to himself, more than satisfied with the plethora of “more cultured” tastes compared to the music selections of his idiot brother and son. 

Just as he was in the middle of returning one of the albums on the shelf, something had caught the dark slayer’s eye. It had been but a flicker of a show from the corner of his eye, but he had most definitely seen it, that much he was most certainly sure of. Vergil’s brow narrowed, his grip on Yamato tightening as he spotted the humanoid shadow again, moving out from the garden and to the fence gate. Hearing Y/N still on the phone of whoever was pestering her this time, Vergil decided to take matters into his own hands. The last thing he needed was the risk of yet another demon trying to ambush her again, let alone stalking out her home. 

Quietly stepping out through the back door leading into the garden, it didn’t take Vergil long to catch the intruder’s track, quickly noticing the faint impressions of footsteps. They were definitely humanoid, though much too small to be that of a grown man, much less a demon. However, this did little to soothe the devil hunter’s nerves as trailed behind. Keeping enough of a distance to where he can remain hidden from this figure while also still being able to track them. It wasn’t long, however, before Vergil eventually found himself practically entrapping the figure into a corner, forcing them into an alley with no end. 

“Whatever ideas you may have involving Miss L/N, I highly suggest abandoning them, lest you wish to leave this world in pieces,” Vergil warned, blocking the only exit as the hooded figure’s back remained turned to him. 

“Funny, I could say the same about you, devil spawn,” the figure said, their voice revealing them to be female as they slowly turned to him. The woman stood no more than about five foot three with short ginger hair and hazel eyes, faint scars painting the corners of her face. To Vergil, this young woman looked to be maybe in her mid twenties to early thirties at least. Though, while she was by no means a demon herself, Vergil could still very well sense the power of one that this one held, regardless of how faint. Her power was nowhere near that of his witch, though he knew enough of this potential coven to lower his guard around one of their potential witches so easily. 

“And yet I’m not the one who was lurking outside her house,” Vergil countered, scoffing at the young woman as she attempted to keep some semblance of an intimidating facade. “If you’re part of that little coven she has spoken of, you won’t be getting whatever it is you want from her. She’s free to do as she pleases and wishes to be left alone, I suggest you abide by said wishes.”

“Hah! The demon who summoned the tree that left a good chunk of this very city and so many others wallowing in its own blood is telling me about being considerate? Oh how the Fates must be in quite a mood right now. Really, it’s amusing. I don’t think I need to be taking words of wisdom from a murderous beast of all things,” the ginger haired witch scoffed. “It’s thanks to you and your ilk we have to scramble for power more than ever with so many of us now depleted by your dear little tree just to bear one measly piece of fruit. Tell me, was it worth it? The countless dead and slaughtered? The sea of blood and destructive chaos? Does it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside like the demon that you are? Hell, you’re probably just following her around to devour her next.” 

“You know nothing of me or my reasons. Now, either hold your tongue lest I make you hold it, foolish girl,” Vergil growled, his thumb raising Yamato’s hilt just ever so slightly from its sheath. “You’re right, I have done terrible things. But at least one of us has learnt our lesson. I’m not trying to drag an innocent woman into the hell you dare try and force upon her to be your weapon and toy.” 

“As if some hellspawn like you could ever understand! We need Y/N! She’s the best of us, even without a pact. She could call upon any one of the lords of hell and make any pact she could ever want compared to the rest of us! We would be set for life and never have to worry about one overly gluttonous demon encroaching on our doorstep, demanding blood...” The woman’s voice began to trail off, her eyes now looking down at the ground as her form shook. “We need her back!  _ I _ need her back...The last thing she needs is to be devoured by some worthless, ungrateful, gluttonous creature you like you.” Before Vergil could respond, the witch had summoned forth a series of fiery arrows that floated around her as her eyes turned to him, glowing bright with what could only be described as rings of fire. “Calyssa and the others might not be willing to deal with you outright, but if it’s what must be done to show her the truth about you, then--” 

Before the witch could even finish, a series of ethereal daggers sliced through the air, devouring the flames in bursts of cold, coating the nearby brick walls of the alley as Vergil and the witch stood in silent awe as the sound of clicking heels approached. 

“I always knew you were one of the more hotheaded of the bunch, Gwen, but I didn’t know you have become downright moronic,” the familiar cold and deadly voice of Y/N said as she revealed herself behind Vergil, eyes cold and sharp like a freshly sharpened blade. 

“I--I--I can explain!” Gwen tried to respond, only to be quickly silenced by another dagger of ice that struck the wall just inches from her face. 

“I can see quite clearly what you were doing, thank you,” Y/N said, arms folded across her chest as she looked on with what Vergil could only be described as cold, quiet rage, silently seething like a gathering storm. Vergil could see the flickerings of ice and lightning that sparked from her fingertips as she stared down the other woman. “I’ve been keeping an eye through Corvo. What? Did you really think me so blind to you and Calyssa’s little ‘check ins’? You honestly think I can’t smell you or your master’s putrid stench every time you’re within a mile of me, especially with Zane of all people back in town? Do you truly think me so blindly naive to not be able to tell what’s going on?” 

“I--I-- _ but he _ \--” Gwen stammered, all signs of her magic having suddenly vanished, practically smothered by the significant gap and power that stood before them, the air growing colder and colder as Y/N spoke. Vergil could practically see traces of freshly formed patches of frost line the nearby bricks as the wind picked up. It was as though all forms of the magic flames had been snuffed out in a single icy breath. 

“And above all else, you have the audacity to not only insult but also attempt to assault my friend here, if not worse? A man who has been nothing but protective and caring in the time that I have known him? To call him a monster and abomination?” Vergil watched as his witch moved past him, her steps slow and calculated, ever precise in every haunting click of her heel as she walked. As she stood hardly a foot or two in front of Gwen, she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, just enough for Vergil to hear, but no less lethal in its delivery as her words struck the girl. “Tell me, Gwen...if he’s an abomination for what dwells within his blood,  _ then what the hell am I? _ ” 

There was a long and heavy pregnant pause that had practically devoured the air around them, leaving only the faint howling of the cool autumn wind that stirred around them. Vergil watched in a mix of confusion and awe, gaze shifting between the two witches as they simply stared at one another. Though, between the two, it would not be his dear witch who would falter first, Gwen’s head quickly shifting downwards, form curling as though it was painful to stare before the witch’s cold, piercing gaze, her words as lethal as sharpened blades, poised to slice and kill. He watched as Gwen’s form began to tremble, her voice barely above a trembling whisper that was just barely audible for Vergil as she attempted to plea her case. 

“B-b-but--but you know what he did! What he did to us--what he did to this city and so many others, he--!” Gwen stammered, eyes red as hot tears pooled in her eyes. “What’s to stop him from doing it all again?! What’s to stop him from using you for his own means?! You know what demons like him do to witches like us!”

Y/N didn’t say anything, her expression remaining deadpan and cold as she stared at the shaking form of the ginger witch. Not once did her expression falter, rather Vergil could practically feel the coldness in the wind grow as it howled and stirred with a tenacity akin to that of a circling tiger. The frost around her fingertips seemed to only spread further up her hand, nearly approaching her wrist. “You’re right, he has done terrible things before. Terrible, horrible things that can never be undone. But--! At least, compared to some of us here, he is willing to own up to his sins,” the witch said, her voice smooth and sharp like a blade, and just as cold for equal measure. “At least he’s able to recognize the blood and sins that have stained and scarred his hands...Unlike some, at least he’s  _ trying  _ to be better than before.” 

Without another word, Y/N turned her heel, the frost around her having now begun to fade as she breathed and turned to the Dark Slayer, her cold gaze softening ever so slightly. She spared all but a fleeting glance at the now silent witch behind her before turning back to him. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing of importance left here. I’d hate to let our tea get cold over such a waste.” 

Vergil began to open his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, noting the tired look in her eyes, staring at him almost pleadingly. Though, as he watched her move on ahead, a cool blue cloth wrapped firmly around her arm. A cloth bandage of sorts, Vergil silently figured as his brow narrowed slightly in thought. He couldn’t help but find himself lost in a number of thoughts, namely how exactly it was she was able to find him. He didn’t exactly leave with so much as a word, leaving no distinction of where he had gone. He had hoped to deal with the foe before she could arrive, hoping to spare her of anymore pain after the demon ambush. Though, once again, it seemed that he had made the mistake of underestimating her. Three times now she had proven to be much more than any ordinary woman, let alone any ordinary witch for that matter. This much, Vergil silently thought to himself as he walked beside her while eyeing her carefully, she had made most clear to him. 

He had recalled her saying to him previously the distinct two types of witches there were, specifically the mention of those who were naturally born with magic as opposed to those who are not. She made it clear to him that she was part of this group, though the more he watched of her and the range of her magical capabilities, the more he couldn’t help but wonder:  _ just where does this power come from?  _

He could feel it’s power bloom in the alley like a bloody lotus, the aroma and vibrations of its power almost overwhelming, having caught both him and the demon off guard from summoning such a spell. Was it only so strong because her blood was incorporated into the spell or because of something else? Perhaps it was a side effect of the two shares of power that had been gifted to her from her demonic allies, one of which still remained a complete mystery to him. He only knew this other partner was simply someone of great power in the Underworld, the Prince of the Circle of Treachery no less. Vergil would be lying if he said he wasn’t even slightly concerned with such an alliance between such a demon and his witch; even if what Zane said was true and that their relationship was purely a business one that simply had a few more lax benefits. 

It wasn’t until they were past the back gate of the garden that the witch had finally spoken, breaking the pregnant and heavy silence between them. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in that. I was hoping she and the others had finally learned to leave good enough alone, though I see now I was sadly mistaken once more.” Vergil blinked in surprise as he looked up, noting the apologetic look in her eyes as she softly smiled at him. “Most of all I’m sorry you had to hear her call you such horrid things, regardless of what you’ve done before and what does lie within your blood.” 

“You needn’t apologize for her foolishness,” Vergil said as he quietly approached her, carefully moving aside a strand of hair from her face, his fingers just ever so slightly grazing the skin of her cheek. 

“I know. But it doesn’t make them any less dreadful, does it?” Y/N said, eyes softening as she breathed a tired and shaky sigh. “I’m glad I caught up and found the two of you when I did. I’d hate to imagine the mess you both would have been caught up in because of my own doings.” 

Vergil’s brow narrowed curiously as she said that, tilting his head slightly as he watched her fiddle with a part of the blue cloth wrapped around her arm. “How did you find us, anyway?” 

“Hm? Oh, well as I said earlier, I had Corvo tracked you down. A bird’s eye view is always useful in this sort of thing,” the witch replied, though quickly noting the confusion on the Dark Slayer’s face. “Oh! Right! I never introduced you to him, did I? I forget you only know of Hecate and Jupiter among my familiars.”

“You mean...there’s more?” Vergil asked in a mixed voice of curiosity and slight concern. 

“Well, yes and no. Him and the other two are just part of my main three familiars. The others are used more so like rentals I guess? Calling on them only on occasion for favors when deemed necessary in terms of payment. This of course, mind you, can simply range from sweets to shiny objects or anything of the like depending on the familiar’s origin. For instance part of the reason why you never see demons around here in the garden that in exchange for sweets and housing, a number of fae tend to live in here and guard the grounds against unwanted pests,” Y/N said, gesturing around the garden, gestering over to a large circle of branches that formed a ring in the upper branches of the large flowering apple tree she had. Vergil had simply assumed such rings were some form of protection or decoration, though now quickly realized that he wasn’t too far off from the former. “Oh, but don’t worry. They tend to only attack or cause trouble to demons or those they’ve been told about prior, so you won’t have to worry about them.” 

“I thought it was best to keep the fae away from one’s home?” Vergil asked, his eyes now somewhat warily scanning the garden for any sign of unusual movement. 

“Well, again, yes and no. It depends on things like the type since not all are the same in nature and whatnot. Most pixies and normal faeries are quite pleasant as many often consist of the souls of dead children who simply wish to have fun and play and the like. Give them their share of sweets and other treats every now and again and they’re easy to befriend so long as you’re smart about it. Obviously fae such as red caps, hags and banshees are obviously best kept far away due to their more malicious and deadly nature,” the witch explained as reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small bag of cookies before placing them onto the oddly clean plate in the middle of the nearby garden table. “They’re pretty easy to satisfy and deal with once you know what they like and how to keep their favor.”

“So then this third familiar of yours...seeing as how your canine is of demonic origin and your feline friend is of the fae, just which category does he fall into?” Vergil asked with a raised brow as he stared at her curiously. “I hardly know of any such creatures that may be of a potential third origin of interest in terms of familiars.” 

“Nor should thee. For it is not of thy will do those such as ourselves dare make ourselves known,” an unfamiliar male voice spoke from above, the sound of flapping wings filling the air as a large shadow passed over the dark slayer. It was much larger than any ordinary bird Vergil had ever seen in his time, this one rivaling the size of a large hawk or even that of an eagle, and yet its feathers were as pitch black as a raven’s. Vergil watched as the bird sore through the air, circling above them both before settling on a large and sturdy branch on the apple tree. Its eyes shone like amethysts as it stared down curiously at the paired, dare Vergil say even amused. “As to my nature and where origin may lie is of no concern to thee, eldest spawn of Sparda.” 

“...It knows who I am?” Vergil asked, not sure whether to be flattered, intrigued or mildly concerned, though nonetheless annoyed at the bird's surprisingly blunt and uncouth tone. 

“Hah, as if one needs to be kin of the Underworld to be familiar with the spawn of the one who stood against the Prince of Darkness. The rest of us are not so blind as to the presence of demons and the other worlds as thee and thine kin may think,” the strange bird scoffed as he tended to his feathers. “Know that the sole importance regarding thine nature is thine mistress and her will. Thus is the nature of our pact.” 

Vergil’s brow furrowed as he stared at the bird warily, about to speak when he felt the gentle hand of his witch touch his arm, stealing his attention. “Pay him no mind, Vergil. Corvo is a bit of a prickly one when it comes to meeting new people. He’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Don’t give the fool such false hope, my lady.” 

“Hush,” the witch countered, waving a dismissive hand at the bird as she shook her head and smiled at the dark slayer. “Just like with Jupiter, through our pact I’m able to see through his eyes. Though he and Hecate are much more suited for combat than our feline fey friend is. Now, let’s go see about having that tea, shall we?” Without another word, the witch had more or less dragged him inside the house, leaving alone the mildly amused and slightly annoyed bird as he watched from afar. 

“Tis been sometime since you’ve brought such a man into one’s abode so willingly, my lady. One merely wishes this will not come back to haunt thee... _ for all our sakes _ .” 

  
  
  



	7. Speak Softly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last date night between Vergil and his witch has arrived, though anticipation regarding the approaching dinner for two is hardly the only thing on the pair's minds. The air turns cold and dark eyes loom in ever closer as pieces are moved across from both sides of the metaphorical chess board. Unanswered questions and hidden truths continue to obscure the truth as both parties attempt to find a moment of peace amidst the ever coming storm that awaits them in the weeks to come.

**Chapter 7: Speak Softly Love**

Vergil couldn't help but dwell on the witch’s words, finding himself going back to them despite his best attempts to try and focus on literally anything else. No matter what he tried, his mind found itself being haunted by his beloved witch’s words. 

**_“Tell me, Gwen...if he’s an abomination for what dwells within his blood, then what the hell am I?”_ **

Although a part of him wanted to dismiss it as having been nothing more than a poetic or philosophical question meant to nag at the lesser witch, there was still something that didn’t sit quite right with Vergil. He still had yet to ask her about how she came to inherit her powers since she was of the rarer variety who had been born with them, not outright needing to create an official pact with a patron to get to where she is now. Even as the two had simply enjoyed the remainder of their day together over tea and sweets, Vergil couldn’t help but linger on such thoughts. Oddly enough she seemed more quiet after the incident with that Gwen woman, almost as though attempting to build up whatever walls had previously cracked and thawed between her and the ambush in the alley. Though, during that more calm and quiet time together, he couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion in her eyes, noting the dark bags under her eyes along with the increased lethargy in her movements, as almost entirely drained of energy and in dire need of rest. He knew for certain she had drained herself from the demon ambush, though it would be of no surprise to him if the added encounter with Gwen didn’t help in restoring her magical energies either.

As much as a part of him wanted to poke and pry her for information, he didn’t wish to exhaust her any more than he already had. Though, being no less curious, Vergil decided after long and hard deliberation to turn to an alternative source that knew her far better and longer than he did. All of which leading to him sitting across the amethyst eyed, leather bound demon that was the witch’s infamous partner. 

“Well well well I was hardly expecting for you of all people to treat me to a brunch date so soon. I’m truly flattered,” Zane teased with a wolfish grin as he sipped from his cappuccino, glancing over his slim black sunglasses. “Should I expect you to take me to dine and dance next, kind sir?” 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed unamusedly, huffing slightly as the demon simply continued to smirk tauntingly. “I’m starting to see what she meant that my brother’s antics were child’s play.” 

The demon merely snorted in response as he sat himself up, chuckling. “Oh, kiddo, your baby brother has nothing on my antics. Though give him a few hundred years or so then we’ll see how close he gets to matching my own chaos...Though, we’re not exactly here to talk about me, now are we?” Zane said with a knowing grin, his narrowed brow having zeroed in on the Dark Slayer’s intentions a mile away. “As much as I love to talk about myself and hear my own voice for the next hour, I think we both know who the real topic of conversation is given recent events. Though I can’t say I expected the desperate ginger ex to make an appearance this early...” he sighed, voice trailing off as he casually sipped his coffee before turning his attention back to Vergil, his casual doggish grin returning once more. “And judging by that silence of yours, I’d say I’m about right, aren’t I?” 

Vergil said nothing, momentarily averting his gaze from the demon as he closed his eyes, arms folded across his chest as he sat back from the demon. “Anything else you’d like to read from me while you’re at it.” 

“Hmm...Your zodiac is Scorpio, you like long moonlit walks and have a slight bias towards cats...Oh and you have a private locked up collection of trashy Victorian era Harlequin novels stashed in a locked trunk under your bed.” Zane didn’t even have to look at Vergil to sense his increasingly annoyed aura as he merely laughed, clearly having fun verbally poking him with every passing moment. “There, there, Ice Queen, I’ll answer your questions. Think of this as just getting the payment for it done with. I sadly have not had my own brother to mess with lately and so will have to do with you instead. You two are similar enough after all to be a suitable replacement for the time being.” 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed, clearly unamused by the demon’s childish antics. Despite his curiosities regarding this other demon in question, that thirst for information would have to be quenched at a later date. “I want to know more about Y/N. She said something the other day that seemed different than normal.”

“Mhm...You want to know what makes her so special from the other witches, don’t you?” Zane hummed, tilting his head as he let his long black hair slip beyond the dark violet scarf wrapped around his neck. “What it is that makes her spark so unique...what it is that makes her just so damn desirable to both demons and covens alike...” Zane’s voice trailed off as he paused to take another sip of his cappuccino, wiping off the remaining milk from his lip from his thumb. “I assume you’re aware of the two main kinds of witches there are, yes?”

Vergil nodded, now having sat up and arms leaning against the table. “Those who are born with it and those who require an outside source in which to gain it. A ‘patron’ as they call it.” 

“Aye, that’s it alright. Though that’s not to say the first don’t take patrons either, especially with the chance of amplifying their powers and that of their future lineage through  _ other  _ means,” Zane nodded with a slight smirk, his fingers toying with the rip of his coffee cup as he continued to speak. “While our dear witch in mind has been fortunate enough to not have to resort to this herself, it’s something she’ll have to consider at some point. A witch can only rely on her own natural born abilities for so long in a world such as ours of both demons, humans and everything else in between.” 

“So where does that leave her exactly if she continues without a proper patron?” Vergil asked, brow furrowed as he stared down at the leather bound demon.

Zane merely shrugged, sighing as he looked over to the elder son of Sparda. “Honestly who can really say? Nothing is ever really set in stone, but then again there’s nothing to say anything is really impossible, now is it?” Vergil didn’t know what it was exactly, but there was something in the demon’s sudden change of tone that didn’t sit well with him, the spark in his eyes dulling to be less of mischief to now be that of genuine concern. “Even with her mother’s own bloodline of magic, as much as she hates to say it and would probably shoot me for even mentioning this to anyone,” Zane began with an exasperated sigh as he leaned back in his chair, “it’s ultimately thanks to her old man’s blood she’s been able to resist it all as well as she has.”

There was something in Vergil’s mind that piqued at the mention of that. While he had heard quite a bit from his witch regarding her mother, any word regarding her father had been all but non-existent. Was this where the reach of her power came from? If her mother was just a human witch with a lot of power at her disposal both naturally and otherwise, then what the hell was her father then? Vergil could tell there wasn’t a single drop of demon blood in her, that much he could have sensed a mile away from his first encounter with her. Though, looking back, there was always some part of him that sensed something else, something he had never quite seen or dealt with before, and therefore could give no name for it. 

“...Are you implying that Y/N isn’t--”

“Completely human? Well,  _ technically  _ depending on who you ask, witches aren’t  _ necessarily  _ entirely human by themselves for having magic, but that’s a different debate for another time,” Zane chuckled with a shrug as he toyed with a small pink macaron. “But no, she’s not. Most witches naturally born with magic almost never entirely are... _ what _ ? Did the idea of her being so comfortable around you so soon and naturally not stick out to you? Not to say a human  _ wouldn’t  _ be fine with hanging out with a demon, though surely it couldn’t even then have stuck out in the slightest as to  _ why _ ?” Vergil didn’t respond, merely opting to avert his gaze from the demon as his brow only continued to furrow, confusion buzzing around his mind like a hive of flustered bees. “That said...there is a particular reason why healing magic tends to be her main front first and foremost. As much as she enjoys embracing her own inner chaos, you could say this other side is much more interested in the idea of protecting, nurturing, guiding and healing. Much like...”

“...An angel,” Vergil said, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes widened in realization as his eyes snapped to the demon in front of him. “Are you seriously telling me that her father was--”

“An angel? Oh yes, but there’s more. You see the old bird wasn’t just any low tear canary with gold and silver strobe lights and a halo. He’s what we would consider one of the very top dogs of what humans refer to as ‘heaven.’ Much like how ‘Hell’ is actually the Underworld, Heaven’s true name is the Overworld, where then the human realm then sits ever so neatly in between to fill the gap in-between the two. But then again, I doubt someone like you even considered them to actually exist seeing as how demons are really the only ones who can’t go an hour without making themselves known to mankind.” Zane paused as he finally popped the soft pink pastry into his mouth, all too contently enjoying the sheer look of bewilderment on Vergil’s face. “Oh, but that said, try not to hold any of this against her. You have to understand, half angels like her, Nephilim as we call them, are a rare breed. A breed hunted after more than you Cambion. God’s favorite little unintended abominations as some of the upper world like to call both you lot--which, mind you, were supposed to be wiped off the face of the Earth with the great flood, but thankfully it turns out even the big guy upstairs can’t always have his way. Though they’re more likely to give your kind the slip--after all it’s only within a demon’s _crude and vile nature_ _to spread its seed wherever it can.”_ Vergil hardly had to strain to hear the venom in Zane’s voice upon making the statement as he did little to hide the roll of his dark violet eyes. “Demons and angels alike won’t hesitate to tear any of the Nephilim like her to ribbons, if not worse. Demons seem to think them a more than pleasant meal alongside that of witches and humans. After all, there’s a good reason why so few will ever immediately reveal their secret to anyone, human, demon, angel or otherwise--though it’s usually much harder to hide that divine spark from the true borns of the latter two, especially other angels. They can smell that sort of thing a mile away.”

“And the city’s coven is aware of this?”

“Hah! Oh trust me, they couldn’t be more aware of it than they are now. Why do you think they harass her incessantly to go back to them and mindlessly tolerate their abuse? Do you have any idea how powerful a Nephili’s blood can be to any powerful enough witch? The very list of things they could summon with one trained in the art of the arcane is practically limitless depending on how advanced their skills mature to be--much like our dear witch.”

“So that’s the real reason why they’re so intent on dragging her back in? Purely because her father was a powerful angel and her mother just happened to be a particularly strong witch with years of expertise?” Vergil asked, his voice growing less and less pleased by the minute. 

“ _ Tragically _ , yes. Though, as you might have guessed, it’s only part of the much bigger picture.” Zane toyed with another of the pink macarons, rolling it between its fingers. “Unfortunately due to the predatory nature of things that are demons in particular just by itself, not even counting rival covens, most witches don’t have much of a choice to go without some kind of patron. Unfortunately it’s the best way to insure their safety and decrease the chance of being hunted for someone’s late night meal at best. And no, I will  _ not  _ be elaborating on that last statement.” 

Vergil felt something in him twist and snarl in disgust at the very thought of some lowly filth attempting to make a meal out of his dear witch. He knew from experience that she was more than smart and capable of defending herself against just about any foe, though, nonetheless he knew all too well that even then, there’s always a bigger fish lurking in the depths. 

_ Waiting, lurking, watching...Simply staring from the distance as they wait for just the right time to swoop in and pounce; heartbeat pounding, flames consuming, claws sinking and tearing into delicate flesh as deep crimson paints the earth and shattered screams pierce the air like glass, helpless to fight back...Just like h-- _

“Oi! You still there, blueberry?” Zane asked, snapping Vergil from his twisting train of thought, somewhat oddly grateful for the distraction despite the obvious annoyance at the childish nickname. It was only when he followed the demon’s violet gaze that he noticed that his right hand was shaking. It was only after he tightly took hold of it, taking a moment to calm his breathing that the shaking finally ceased. 

“...I’m fine,” Vergil coldly replied, going back to his normally sober expression. “I’m hardly the one that anyone needs to be concerned for. I’m not the one at risk.” 

For once there was no teasing or mocking remark from the much older demon, who simply stared at the Dark Slayer, his brow deeply knit and contemplative. If there was something he wanted to say, he certainly didn’t make it known, though there was something in his eyes that Vergil noticed. Not the same spark of mocking mischief that sought out chaos, but rather something much older, calmer, and in an odd sense...understanding? He did not breach the subject further, merely grabbing his cappuccino before taking another deep sip of it before gently placing it back on the small matching plate it had come with. “I entrust you with this knowledge, Vergil, eldest son of my late pupil and friend, for a very good reason. There are few in this city I trust to look out for my old ward and student. I’ve looked after that girl before she could properly speak. I’m trusting you to stand by her and help her however you can.”

“I take it you’ll tear me to ribbons if I hurt her?” 

“Hah, please. Y/N isn’t some helpless kitten. Her own fangs and claws are sharp enough to tear you down plenty herself,” Zane chuckled deeply, an almost wolfish grin appearing on his face. “Besides, I think there are plenty of others in her repertoire who’d sooner tear you down even if she didn’t.  _ He’d  _ certainly get there long before I would.” 

Before Vergil could question what the demon meant further, he watched as Zane had gotten up, placing a pair of twenties on the table before putting on his shades once more. “The world is a dangerous place, Mr. Sparda, and it’s only going to get worse with the way the winds are shifting.” 

Vergil had begun to open his mouth when something stopped him. Although it was late November now, the small cold white speck of snow nevertheless stopped him in his tracks, a gentle cascade of snow now gently falling upon the city. It had been perfectly clear and sunny before, and surely it had been nearly cold enough for it to snow? It had been only slightly below fifty degrees Fahrenheit, hardly cold enough for it to just randomly start snowing, right? Vergil was only growing more perplexed until he heard a faint chuckle from the demon across him who was now smiling with amusement. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Zane chuckled as he shook his head, adjusting the placement of his scarf as he turned to Vergil with a smirk. “Don’t worry. I’m not referring to the danger...though it may well be if you piss him off too much and hurt our favorite local witch. My dear brother tends to get protective like that. Doesn’t like it when people try to make meals out of his friends, especially if they happen to be long time business partners.” Vergil watched as the leather bound demon stretched lazily before grabbing the saxophone case he had been previously walking with. “Ironic as it sounds, there is hardly a hound of hell more loyal than the Prince of Treachery himself.” 

  
  


Back at the shop, the witch softly hummed to herself as she carefully tended to a number of unfrosted cookies that just finished cooling, mixing the freshly made frosting as she hummed softly to herself. Despite the soreness in her arm, she found herself to be in an oddly good mood. Well, that was  **_after_ ** she had managed to get Lady, Trish and Nico out of her bedroom wardrobe after three straight hours of them insisting on “preparing for the big night.” Otherwise known as trying to find the most revealing and not at all subtle dress, heels and stockings that she owned. While she had yet to fully settle on anything official at the time, she had at least managed to pick out a nice amethyst and sapphire choker that her current tea guest had gifted her last Winter Solstice as a “holiday bonus” and absolutely not a form of “let me spoil you” since he didn’t exactly have any such shortage of neither money nor influence. 

Said guest of course being none other than the other demonic partner of her unofficial, pseudo-pact arrangement--who, according to the witch, was by no means in any way a “sugar daddy in disguise” as Nico so often liked to joke. Although he didn’t exactly stop by often, the witch was no less fond of their rare visits which usually consisted of catching up and gossiping over brunch with the occasional transaction of magical goods. After all, as the demon so forlornly said time and time again: “It takes more than blood and souls to heal scars and the true demonic bane of the world that are crows feet.” 

“You hardly need to pay ten times the amount for a normal large package of lotions, skin creams, conditioners and spa sets,” Y/N said, glancing over to the steely eyed demon who was helping himself to a warm cup of lavender tea, an oddly tranquil look on his face as he breathed in the scent. 

“I’m paying for the added brunch luxury, am I not? I’m merely paying for your priceless time and companionship with added food and drink. It’s only proper that such excellent hospitality be rewarded,” he countered smugly, his voice deep and smooth like velvet glazed in honey. His hair was dark and curly, complementing his smooth and pale skin and finely chiseled features. His finely kept five o’clock shadow and cool, steely blue eyes did little to subtract such from his appearance. Due to his natural devilish charisma, most normal people would melt from his voice and gaze like jelly, though the witch had long since been immune to his inhuman charms. Supposedly it was what drew him to her, enjoying her sharp tongue and even sharper eye. There was nothing more refreshing than one who did not fear to bark back the far bigger wolf in the room. 

“Sweet talker,” Y/N scoffed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head, no less smiling at such a remark. “I didn’t think you’d be around for another month or so at least. You hardly come around this early before winter.” 

“Normally, yes, but when the mention of heightened witch activity starts buzzing around your neck of the woods long enough, it hardly becomes something you can just casually ignore,” the demon replied with a deep sigh. “My offer is still on the table. Even if I do something, they can’t do anything to you. Not unless a few dozen other demons want their own insides served to them.” 

“Murder isn’t going to solve a three hundred year old blood feud and you know that,” the witch countered as she placed the bowl of icing down with a hard thud, brows knit in annoyance. “I swear every time someone calls you my sugar daddy and I tell them to fuck off, you try to embrace it to mess with me. Honestly, you are truly terrible, Markus Frost.” 

Markus, or Malice as the demon world called him, great prince of treachery, malice and frost, merely smirked as he shrugged, face turned away. “My dear, I haven’t the faintest idea as to what you could be referring to. I’m merely guarding my trusted and most dearest friend and business partner away from those who’d try to make a toy or snack out of her...if not both.” 

“Yes, because  _ friends  _ casually dump checks of two million dollars into their bank accounts once a year when they’re not looking and leave them no way to reject it,” she grumbled as she leaned down onto the counter, brow slightly twitching. “Are you sure you’re not trying to financially seduce me into something here?” 

Markus merely laughed as he sipped his tea, toying with a small cat shaped cookie. “Please, if I was that interested I would have done that years ago when you first originally summoned me to your aid. I’m here to ensure those chains stay  _ off  _ you, my dear, not replace them. Besides, someone had to help provide the funds to repair the place when that damned tree showed up. You can’t make your precious remedies and such if you have no gardens for ingredients intact--much less with a mostly shattered roof and enough demon blood to stain paint the entire place head to toe twice. Last thing I need you of all people is in chains to some loan shark or corporate shill.” 

The witch couldn’t help but snort at the idea, shaking her head as she merely continued to laugh, turning back to the butter knife and bowl of lemon icing. “Next thing you’re going to tell me you plan on sending my imaginary children through college.” She stopped as she looked at her companion who only smirked at her, a dangerous sparkle of spite in his eye, hardly one to resist such a challenge. “I swear you’re just looking for a constant excuse to spend money. Didn’t you just fund the opening of three new hospitals the other week for your annual monthly financial repentance? Or is this some weird money spending kink that I’m somehow not aware of?” 

“Do you really want to know?” The devil grinned, the witch narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him before letting out a faint huff and returning to the plate of cooled cookies. “My dear, in all honesty when you’re already the devil who has everything and way too much money and free time on their hands, the value of it all hardly means much. After all, I’m the prince of  _ treachery _ , not  _ greed _ . I hardly need an unending pit of gold and cash to get my goals achieved--enough it does make the clean up much easier.” 

The witch merely snorted at the sentiment as she picked up one of the leaf shaped cookies, carefully applying a reasonable layer of icing along its surface. “All that money and power and you spend it all on everyone and anything that isn’t you. Are you sure you’re still a demon after all these years?” 

“Hah, trust me, my dear, when I told them I wasn’t going back to those pretentious and self-righteous halo wearing idiots, I meant it. Besides, I’ve plenty of other crimes and sins to keep me down here. Besides, if I went up there, I wouldn’t be able to grace you with my charming and wonderful presence.” 

_ Ah, there’s that demonic pride of his,  _ the witch silently smirked to herself with a faint chuckle as she shook her head. She could sense he was in town the moment the gently falling snowfall had caught her eye as she had been in the middle of tending to one of her apple trees outside. The fruit themselves weren’t as big as they were in previous years due to having to replace the trees thanks to what happened with the giant demonic tree that was the qliphoth, though they were nonetheless perfect for picking. She could already hear Nero and Kyrie waiting for when her infamous apple fritters, cider, tarts and pies would be available for ordering. Kyrie always bought about a dozen of the fritters and tarts for the kids they had adopted following the incident in Fortuna a while back.

“That said,” the smooth voice of the Markus said, looking over his tea cup to her, a foxlike grin written all over his face, “A little birdie told me you made a new friend as of late. A certain son of Sparda no less. Very impressive.” 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the comment, quirking a brow as she watched the demon carefully. “Oh yeah? Did this little birdie also wear leather pants and emit lightning to the music of AC/DC?” 

“Now, now, there’s no need to curse my dear idiot brother just yet, even though it would be quite amusing to see what unique hex you throw at him this time. Turning him into a toy poodle for a month, though, was  _ VERY  _ entertaining I will say. The matching pink bow was a very nice touch too I might add,” Markus chuckled smugly. “I’m just curious is all. It’s rare to see a demon, let alone a half-demon, showing up to your doorstep more than just a few times a month. I hear he makes regular visits down here--how very gentlemanly of him.” 

“...Where is this going?” She finally asked with narrowed eyes, knowing all too well how Zane and his brothers are hardly ones to make conversation without some motivation behind it. While the eldest brother was nowhere near as chaotic as his dear middle sibling, even he was not immune to his own share of mischief and chaos. 

“I also happened to hear that you two are having dinner this evening, and as your business partner and right hand man--”

“Markus, so help me gods if you--”

“--Wish to impart upon you a gift in which to help your endeavors,” the demon finished, snapping his fingers for a large black shopping bag to appear, hanging idly by his fingers as he smirked knowingly at her. “I merely wish to see you excel where others failed to help you succeed, my dear friend.” Y/N watched with wary eyes, all the while exchanging glances between him and the bag. “Don’t worry it’s nothing  _ lewd _ . I’m here to help you wine and dine first and foremost, not skip straight to the sheets. Not exactly my idiot brother, now am I?” 

The witch remained quiet as she slowly approached him before hesitantly taking the bag, weighing it in her hand before walking back a bit. Opening it and peering inside, she couldn’t help but feel her eyes widen a bit. The design was more simplistic and modest, though the certain shortness of the dress, stopping about a couple inches beyond her thighs. The sleeves stopped at just about a little past the elbow. Though that was minor compared to the notable v-shaped cut, giving just enough of a view of her chest. Although normally such an outfit would hardly bother her, the witch couldn’t help but notice the increasing heat filling her ears and corners of her face. She knew it was relatively tame compared to some of the other “suggestions” her dear friends had proposed earlier--hell it certainly tame compared to what Zane had “jokingly” bought her in the past and added to her closet for ladies’ night fun. Though, something about it made her face burn bright at the thought of greeting her dear Dark Slayer with it for a simple dinner occasion for two that was purely for  _ two friends.  _

Was this even appropriate? After all, they’re nothing more than close friends at best who meet for brunch and like to talk about books, hardly a thing to dress like this for? Would she be coming off two strong or risk giving him the wrong idea that she simply wanted to bed him and nothing else? What if--

“You’re doing it again,” Markus spoke up, snagging her from her runaway train of thought, blinking in surprise as she heard the demon call out to her, who now was looking at her with a mildly amused expression. “Now, now there’s no need to overthink it. After all, there’s no shame in looking your best when having dinner, regardless as to who its with.” 

“You said--”

“And it still isn’t my pure intention to get the two of you entangled in the throws of passion via your bed sheets. Though, if that does happen, well then it’s just a happy coincidence on your end. As to what the two of you do beyond the eating and drinking is entirely up to you, my dear lady.” Markus smugly sipped at his tea as he watched her conflicted expression, chuckling to himself before letting out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to wear it of course. If you wish to stick to your beloved simple black turtleneck and black jeans, that’s entirely up to you.” 

“..Why do I let any of you have access to my wardrobe again?” 

“Because sometimes, my friend, it’s best to help those of us give you the necessary shove needed to go beyond all those pesky walls of icy hesitation you seem so determined to put up. Although winter approaches these months, there’s no shame in looking to find spring sooner than later,” the demon smirked, taking one of the moon shaped cookies and dipping it into his tea. “There’s nothing more infuriating than those who hesitate in the face of longing for that which they desire most. I don’t need to be Asmodeus, lord of lust and debauchery, to sense that much off you at the very mention of this young man.” He paused for a moment before looking at her, a hint of devilish delight sparkling in those icy blue grey eyes. “After all, as a wise man once said, ‘ _ he who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence’.” _

The witch remained silent at the line, sighing deeply as she closed her eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter in defeat. Gods, why did they always have to be right about things? And just why did he have to mention that exact line from Willaim Blake, reminding her exactly of a certain dark haired poet that she had longed to see again since his descent deeper into the Qliphoth with Nero and Dante. Although she didn’t get to spend too much time with him beyond a few weeks, she had nonetheless grown to care for him, and for a time she was so sure that he felt the same. Though looking back, there was much she was rethinking as to what was truly real. 

“...Malice, can I ask you something?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and would likely have been easily missed had it not been for the demon’s unnaturally keen hearing. “Is it possible for someone to lose their memories upon being remade whole? Even if the one with those memories while separated served as the actual half containing the person’s consciousness and memories?” 

“Mhm...Not by natural means, no,” the demon said after a brief moment of thought as he refilled his cup, lightly stirring the drop of honey he had added. “Usually the memories are not so much lost or wiped but are more so likely displaced or repressed. It’s usually quite hard and takes a great deal of magic to  _ actually  _ wipe someone of their memories. Even most amnesiacs are rarely truly robbed of their memories, even if the mind simply refuses to release them to the front most center of the mind’s consciousness.” 

“So you don’t think something went wrong with the rejoining itself?” Y/N asked, eyes widening in a mix of intrigue and relief, though not also without at least a twinge of concern. 

“Not on it’s own,  _ no _ . Though, magically induced from an outside source however...” Markus’s voice trailed off as his brow furrowed, hardly needing to continue for the witch to see where he was clearly going. 

Markus could see just from the way her fingers tightly curled into fists on the countertop, the faintest hint of ice in the air clearly telling him all that he needed to know. Her powers had always been tied to her emotions, as much as she hated to admit it. He and his brother had trained her countless times to help counterbalance this part of her, but even he knew all too well that she could master her emotions completely and still it would find a way to get through the cracks. The only other “solution” would be to shut down and stunt her emotions completely, which easy to say both demons were against entirely. Such a notion had only been brought up by Matron Calyssa at times, trying to cut the young woman off from her humanity, likely hoping she could be little more than a pawn and tool at that point rather than a person. Although there were plenty like Matron Calyssa, demons and humans alike, who’d sooner damn humanity for their so-called weaknesses like these, the prince of treachery found a certain beauty in it. It made them shine not with that of an overbearing sun, but rather with the unique and pleasant glow of a star. And what good was the night sky without the stars to decorate the sky? For despite all of humanity's shortcomings and faults, many of which even he had toyed with and exploited plenty in the past, even he could not help but admire and appreciate the gentle tenacity that made humanity what it was to begin with.

“The longer you make that face the more likely it’s going to stay like that,” the demon sighed teasingly with a slight smirk, snatching the witch from her thoughts as she stared at him. “I can’t say for  _ fact _ as to  _ who _ or  _ why  _ the person responsible did this, though if there is one thing I do know, a curse is not too dissimilar from a lock, and where there’s a lock—”

“There’s a key,” Y/N nodded, her features softening as she deeply breathed, her magic calming before dispersing entirely. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d know where I’d even begin to find this key? Let alone be able to make one myself?” 

“Something cannot be made out of nothing--this much I hardly need to explain to someone such as you,” Markus smirked as he began to rise from his seat, gently setting aside the small fine china tea cup he had been using. “The trick will be to find the source and exact nature of this lock. Learn how it was made and how it works and not just what exactly it’s meant to conceal. Once you have that information in place, then the real work can begin.” Slipping on his black blazer and adjusting it with a satisfied nod, he began to approach the witch, that infamous foxlike grin on his face as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft yet reassuring squeeze. “As for the creator of this lock...Well, just focus on fixing things with you and this lover of yours. Leave the instigating gnats and fleas to me.” 

The witch wasn’t sure to be more thankful or concerned by the demon’s wording, though given what they knew regarding this type of magic and the list of covens who would even consider using such magic--well, it wasn't exactly hard to say the wording wasn’t exactly accurate. Although she dared not say it out loud, a part of Y/N seemed to know all too well who was exactly behind this mess. Though, it still left a number of questions in her mind: why do this? Why do it only to him? If they want her away from all the sires of Sparda, why not do the same to Dante and Nero as well? And why not at least try to meddle with her own memories? If this was Calyssa and the others, just what exactly was it they thought they could gain from targeting Vergil alone? 

“Oh, and here, before I go,” Markus quickly added just as he was about to exit the kitchen, snapping his fingers as a large, ornate wine bottle materialized into his hand. 

The witch raised a curious brow as she exchanged looks between the man and the bottle. “Did your ‘little birdie’ tell you about that too?” 

“Hah, trust me you don’t need a bird to tell you about broken glass and dried wine stains with traces of demon blood in an alley. The story there tells itself, or  _ smells  _ itself I should say,” Markus added playfully as he carefully handed her the bottle. “It’s one of my Sicilian collections--Malvasia. Thought someone of your expertise would approve.”

“...I suppose it’ll suffice for tonight. It should go well with the Torta Carpasse I’ve made for tonight. Though you already knew that, didn’t you?” Y/N turned to eye the smugly grinning demon, who was now gone from sight, merely left alone with a small card left on the witch’s counter: 

_ “A good gambler never reveals his secrets.”  _

__

Vergil stood in front of the mirror, brow furrowed in contemplation as he looked himself over. He wanted to make a good impression with his dear witch, wanting to look just as good as the dinner she was so kind as to prepare for them. However, it wasn’t as though the Dark Slayer had the largest wardrobe available to him either. He had contemplated about a dozen times now whether to simply wear his usual attire or perhaps try something new. He could swear that if he stared any longer at his closet that he was going to end up burning a hole through it. His eyes trained to the neatly wrapped bouquet that he had sitting in a nearby vase by the window, which he had been carefully looking after while waiting for this day to come, not wanting to ruin this plan in the slightest. That said, none of this exactly did anything to help with the flutter of anxiety and frustration that had been buzzing about inside him the more he thought about it. 

_ It’s simply a dinner between friends, nothing more... _ Vergil could feel his brow ever so slightly twitch as he opened the closet door, retrieving a simple, form fitting black turtleneck along with a pair of matching pants and boots. He didn’t want to overdress for the occasion, though he certainly didn’t want to pass up the chance of making a good impression on the kind lady. It was only just seeing as how she’d not only be giving him a free meal as an unnecessary apology for her partner’s antics, but also be the one making the meal to begin with. The least he could do was show up well dressed beyond his usual attire along with the flowers Kyrie had so generously helped him pick out. 

As he applied his cologne, he couldn’t help but ponder her reaction, cool blue eyes glancing back at the flowers he bought for her that lingered not too far in the vase he had set for them. Though, for some strange reason, he couldn’t help but feel his gaze linger on the small blue blooms that were the forget-me-nots, unable to help but think back about what Kyrie said. He knew they resembled remembrance and that they were considered a treasured favorite to his dear witch, but he couldn’t help but wonder as to why.

Grabbing the long dark gray blazer from the nearby chair and sliding it on, he gave himself one last glance over, running his hands through his hair to make sure it stayed in order. Grabbing Yamato with one hand and the bouquet in the other, he began to head downstairs, closing the door behind him while paying little mind to the faint playing of the jukebox downstairs. Vergil was about halfway to the door when a whistle from behind him stopped him in his tracks. 

“Oh man does someone look fancy tonight! Going to your date, lover boy?” Dante asked with a laugh, that infamous teasing grin as present as ever, earning a faint “tsk” of annoyance from the older twin. “Ooh, you even got the lady some flowers. Didn’t know you were such a proper gentleman, Verg.” 

“As if such things were ever of your concern, Dante,” Vergil countered coolly, resisting the urge to try and wipe the smug look on his brother’s face, not wanting to risk damaging the flowers meant for his dear witch. The last thing he wanted was to risk having to disappoint her with ruined flowers thanks to his brother’s own foolishness. 

“Now, now, no need to be so moody before your big date. Hah, and here Lady and Trish were worried they were going to take over your wardrobe for the night,” Dante laughed as he reclined in his seat, legs propped up on his desk. “Just try not to get carried away! I’d hate to have the little lady have to portal your drunk ass back here agai--” Dante began before quickly ducking out of the way to avoid the incoming summoned sword aimed for his head. 

Vergil didn’t bother to say anything at that point, instead opting to head out and quickly greeted by the crisp autumn air that nipped at his features as he strided to that small and charming shop. The sun was approaching the end of its setting, fading out of sight as the dark shawl of night instead began to take hold. The fallen leaves danced in the air in a methodical waltz, rising, dipping and falling with the wind as it softly howled in the Dark Slayer’s ears. The faintest hint of starlight peaked from between the breaks in the clouds overhead, the snow having thankfully left some few hours ago just as bizarrely as it had first arrived earlier that morning. He still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around the idea of demons whose very presence was strong enough to affect the weather itself, though if his witch’s descriptions of them were anything to go by with their age alone, Vergil surmised that perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised that such demons exist. Though, in truth, the only thing he was most glad for was that they were on her side and not at the coven’s disposal. 

With the shop being little more than a few feet away at this point, Vergil paused, closing his eyes briefly, breathing deeply in an attempt to hopefully compose himself before heading inside--though not before switching the ‘open’ sign to closed as he entered. The atmosphere inside the shop was as warm and pleasant as ever, the faint scent of freshly ground herbs and spices in the air, causing Vergil to let out a sigh he didn’t realize he had been holding. This place never seemed to fail when maintaining its homely aura between the warm comfort and soothing smells that came the moment you opened the door. Between that, the various plants and almost fantastical pieces around the shop, it would almost feel as though Vergil had stepped into a scene from a fairy tale book. 

The faint sensation of something brush against his pant leg stole him from his thoughts as he looked down to notice the familiar white haired cat with bright green eyes. The cat was staring up at him with a mixed look of curiosity and what Vergil could almost swear to be mild annoyance. Was there ever a time that this strange feline fey familiar wasn’t judging someone at all times? 

“I’ll be down in a minute!” the familiar voice of his witch called from above, causing Vergil to look up towards the stairway leading to the floor above. Vergil barely had a moment to reply as the sound of footsteps from the stairs was followed by an image that stopped him dead in his tracks, breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened, unable to help but stare. 

Compared to her usual attire, his witch was dressed in a form fitting black dress, that while simple in design, looked no less stunning on her as it perfectly hugged and accentuated every curve of her body in just the right way. The top of the dress was relatively low cut and even dipped into a slight V shape, showing off just the slightest tease of her chest as the dress stopped a few inches below her thighs, showing off the pair of black stockings that complimented her legs perfectly. The pair of fine black heeled ankle boots with it did little to lesen her appearance as she made her way down the stairs. Trying to pry his gaze, Vergil’s eyes noted the way her hair beautifully gleamed in the lamp light, eyes popping with the faint layer of smokey brown eye shadow and matching dark lipstick. For a moment it felt as though the Dark Slayer had forgotten how to breathe as her eyelashes fluttered as her lips curled into a warm smile. With the way Vergil’s heart was now pounding in his chest, it almost felt as though it was going to burst out at any given moment. He could practically feel all traces of that cold, steely reserved composure melting away like an ice cube under a heat lamp. Yet not once did he dare look away as she approached him. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I was hoping to be down here to meet you, though it seems I lost track of time,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not overdressed since this is just a simple dinner for two.” 

“Not at all...I was simply caught off guard. I didn’t realize the moon could shine more radiant than usual--though once again it seems you’ve proven me wrong,” Vergil replied with a slight smirk after finally recollecting his confident persona. A soft giggle left the witch as she stared at him, eyes bright with anticipation before looking down, eyes blinking in surprise. “Speaking of which, these are for you,” Vergil added with a quick clear of his throat, trying his best to try and ignore the developing twinge of warmth in his ears and cheeks. He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, mouth slightly agape as she gently took the flowers from them. She said nothing for a moment as she looked them over, looking as though she wanted to say something until her eyes landed on the cluster of forget-me-nots. For even the slightest second or two Vergil couldn’t help but noticed the way her eyes seemed to almost glimmer with a certain sadness as she exchanged glances between him and the flowers, almost as though hoping to find something as she seemed to search his gaze. 

“Is something wrong?” Vergil asked, doing his best to repress the slight trace of worry that was beginning to bleed into his voice. “Kyrie mentioned to me that these were among your favorites.” 

“Ah...I see, how thoughtful of her,” Y/N said with what Vergil could only describe as a partially forced smile. “Thank you for the flowers. I hardly know what I did to deserve these, but I’m deeply grateful for them. Just give me a minute to get some water for these lovelies whilst you make yourself at home.” 

Vergil watched as she disappeared through the kitchen doorway, siding off his coat as he hung it up on the nearby coat hanger. While he was pleased to see how the flowers made her smile, there was something about that brief look in her eye that didn’t quite sit well with him. Kyrie had said they were her favorite type of flower, and he doubted she would trick him into doing something to offend his dear witch. Was it perhaps that he was missing something? Was there something between them that he hadn’t quite picked up on? 

His train of thought was interrupted upon being greeted by the scent of rich herbs and fresh bread paired with the scent of garlic and tomato, causing the cambion’s mouth to salivate slightly as he slowly approached the kitchen. The kitchen was neatly set with a fine dark blue tablecloth and finely polished silverware that gleamed in the dimmed light of the room. Fresh bread coated in a layer of butter and shavings of garlic and parsley. The large bowl of steaming fresh pasta in the middle did little to curb that hungry growling in his stomach, his eyes scanning over to the neighboring plate of grilled chicken paired with what Vergil recognized to be thyme and what he assumed to be a lemon sauce. 

“Feel free to make your plate if you want. I’d hate to make that stomach of yours wait anymore than it already has,” Y/N smiled as she glanced over at the not so subtly staring Dark Slayer. “I also have both white and red wine depending on which you prefer—though I do also have water if you wish.” Vergil hardly had to look far to notice the teasing grin on her face at that last bit. 

“The red wine is more than suitable,” Vergil slightly huffed as he took his seat, brow narrowed slightly at the comment as he picked up the bottle and nearby corkscrew. “My stomach simply wasn’t as full as it should have been at the time.” 

“Mhm... _ whatever you say, handsome _ ,” she hummed playfully as she shook her head, placing the flowers inside the vase before setting them by an empty spot by the windowsill. “A pity you didn’t indulge in any of the chocolates I offered you with them last time. The girls ended up devouring the rest of it for themselves, unfortunately. I’m sure it would have done you wonders that night.”

Vergil could tell by the way she was speaking and from the notable smug smirk on her face that she was teasing him. She was lucky he had such a profound fondness for both her charms and her cooking. Or at least that was what the Dark Slayer told himself as he found himself inching towards the food adorned dinner table that lured him like a siren luring a sailor to his doom. Not that he’d have the power to stop her, knowing all too well of her resilience and knowing that if a blood thirsty demon or the persistent abuse of a powerful coven couldn’t intimidate her, even Vergil’s most intimidating glare would simply pelt and roll off her like rain drops falling on slates of steel.

“I wasn’t sure how much of an appetite you’d have personally, though with how many times I’ve fed both your son and brother, I figured better to have leftovers than not enough,” Y/N grinned with a playful wink. “Guess I picked up more from the dozens of local grans that come to me from around here—not that my own grandmother would approve of having any guests of mine go hungry. It’s only proper to be a good host. That much even the gods themselves can attest to,” the witch chuckled as she joined him at the table, grabbing the bottle of red wine and uncorking it with surprising ease. 

“Your grandmother? Not from your mother?” Vergil asked curiously, though stopping upon noticing the sudden moment of hesitation and what Vergil could only describe as a pang of sadness, even if it was only for a few seconds. She had no problem speaking of her mother in the past when they had traded secrets over tea. Did he miss something regarding their relationship, causing him to somehow offend her. Did he—?

“I...Uh...a-actually never really knew my mother. At least, not enough to really remember her the way most of my other siblings or anyone else who knew her does.” Despite her best attempts to conceal it, Vergil could sense the tiny cracks in her mask of a façade, doing her best to quickly recover and conceal her pain on the subject like an injured animal trying to conceal a wound to seem strong. “I was barely even a year old when she was killed.” 

Vergil’s brow narrowed as he watched her in a mix of shock, anger and unusual empathy. Hell, even while his last memories of his mother contained some level of jealousy and resentment, at least he and Dante were able to remember their mother. Meanwhile his dear witch seemed to only know of her own through mere photos, antique journals, and the words of other people. The silent pain in her eyes as she spoke told him as much as she did her best to regain her previous more confident composure. 

“I see...My condolences. I didn’t intend to bring up such unpleasant memories. Certainly not during such an occasion,” Vergil said somberly, mentally backpedaling on his last statement in hopes of salvaging the mood for the evening. He could practically feel Nero yelling at him the moment he should find out about this—which of course was assuming Lady and Trish weren’t busy verbally tearing into him first for potentially upsetting his dear witch--especially with all the hard work she had put herself through just for them...

“Hah, it’s fine. You couldn’t have known and it’s not as though I’ve told a lot of people. I mean, people know she’s dead  _ currently _ , just not so much entirely aware of when she died exactly. Because of this, people like Matron Calyssa like to take advantage of it, trying to twist all knowledge of her against me. Speaking like she  _ truly  _ knew my mother better than anyone else...” Vergil hardly had to strain his ears just to feel the venom that dripped and oozed from her words at the mention of Calyssa and the coven. The more he learned about this vile hag of a woman, the more Vergil desired to see this woman for himself,  _ perhaps give her a more than permanent lesson in manners to say the least. _

“But--! Thankfully I’m no longer weak to her manipulation. I’ve long since been able to see past her smoke and fog. I have met people who actually knew my mother. People who don’t need to lie about the kind of woman she was. Hell, it was thanks to Zane I got ahold of some of her old diaries and the journals she used for her occult and arcane studies. It’s thanks to those that I’ve gotten to really know her for who she is rather than listen to someone like Calyssa, lest I become tethered in her web of lies again...” the witch fell quiet as her gaze trailed off to her nearby wine glass, brow slightly furrowed as a heavy silence filled the air between them, a deep and solemn look emanating from her gaze. 

Vergil could only stare as he studied her features, the dull glow of the small, overhanging chandelier giving her features an almost holy glow. For even the briefest of moments she seemed almost beyond him, so saddened and alone; slowly and silently strangled in a tightening noose of webs of lies and abuse carefully woven by the spiders who desired to only devour this poor bird. Vergil was never a master of knowing what to say, this much he knew to be certain, and although he hardly knew exactly what he was doing, he found his body moving unbeknownst to him, his hand reaching out to her before gently taking her free hand in his. It was seemingly so small and insignificant, but even Vergil couldn’t deny the softly growing warmth of a spark spreading between the two of them, watching as the witch’s body relaxes and her gaze softens at his mere touch. He always thought his mere touch to be so rough and cold, and yet, despite that, it seemed to provide the warmth needed to burn away the webs that constrained her so. 

“But enough about that. I’d hate for things to sour the mood. Nothing’s worse than trying to enjoy good food over depressing topics,” the witch laughed, quickly recovering her seemingly carefree facade as she smiled at the Dark Slayer. “I’d hate to have gone through all this effort to make things up to you only to ruin it over such unpleasant conversation.” 

Vergil couldn’t help but find himself scoffing in reply. Here he was having been the one to accidentally bring it up and yet she’s the one apologizing? Once again she continued to mystify him at every turn. Oh whatever was he to do with his dear witch? 

The conversation turned to a more casual and relaxed tone as the pair moved on, relaxing more as the pair carried on with their meal. Vergil couldn’t help but admire the amount of skill that had been put into every detail, ranging just from the right amount of herbs blended and cooked perfectly within the pasta’s marinara along with just the right amount of subtle sweetness of the wine that was paired with the slow cooked blend. Vergil had lost track of how much he had eaten, despite having originally planned on trying to resist eating too much. It had been so long since he had such a well made home cooked meal. There were occasionally the days where he and Dante would be treated to meals by Kyrie and Nero, though nowadays such times were rarer than not. To say enjoying her cooking beyond just her baking was a refreshing change was an understatement.

Vergil couldn’t help but feel his heart grow warm and flutter about in his chest each time he’d make her laugh, noting the way her eyes would lit up with delight as they’d continue to talk. From exchanging tastes in classic authors to perfect tea blend combinations, the two found themselves talking late into the night, and before long they would find their plates practically cleaned, left only with the lingering remains of spirits and sweets as they found themselves now lounging in the living room. 

“I’m glad to see you’re holding your spirits better than before,” the witch teased with a playful wink as she watched the Dark Slayer from over her wine glass. “Perhaps all those carbs did you justice after all.”

“Like I said before, I just hadn’t eaten last time we drank together,” Vergil countered with a slight grumble as his brow slightly twitched in annoyance, earning another laugh from the witch. 

“Mhm...yes and surely not at all because your lovely local healer and magical baker chose a less potent blend,” she teased before taking a long sip from her glass. “I’d hate to see my poor dear devil fall asleep on my couch while the night is still young.” 

“You consider eleven o’clock young?”

“You’ve never dined with Greeks or Italians clearly,” Y/N chuckled as she smirked at him. “Anything before the witching hour is hardly anything in comparison.” 

“Oh? And then how do you plan to end tonight’s festivities? Making potions with eyes of newt and wings of bats?” 

“Mhm I was going to suggest stripping down and going off to dance out and about with the devil in the pale moonlight. Though I suppose we’ll have to wait till at least May before we go there just yet,” she smirked in reply, already drinking in the sight of the developing layer of noticeable heat in the corners of Vergil’s cheeks. “I’d hate for my dear friend to catch a cold.”

“Tsk. I’m hardly so frail as to fall prey to the mere chill of autumn,” Vergil grumbled as he tried to dismiss the growing warmth pooling in his cheeks, trying to wipe his mind clean of the distinct image of his dear witch’s bare form dancing in the open wood, moonlight so perfectly hugging each and every curve of her body. 

“Mhm, so I see. I suppose it would spare you the trouble of me tending to you if you did get sick,” she winked, Vergil almost swearing to have caught a rather foxlike grin curling at the corner of her mouth. 

_ This woman is going to be the death of me, isn’t she?  _ Vergil thought to himself, internalizing a conflicted groan as she continued to tease him. Though, despite her smug teasing and playful jests, there was still something that didn’t sit quite right for the Dark Slayer. It would come in brief flashes, easily missable to the untrained eye. He mostly noted the brief flickering of her eyes, noting the pauses in conversation as her eyes would trail to the window, deep in contemplation before quickly realizing the notable silence between them, quickly flashing a clever smile in an attempt to distract him. There was clearly something on her mind, trying hard to rise to the surface, only to be quickly pushed back down soon after.

“Something on your mind, little bird?” Vergil asked, causing the witch to blink in surprise amidst another one of her pauses. 

“Oh—I—No, no, it’s nothing to worry yourself with. It’s just some seasonal coven nonsense,” she half laughed somewhat nervously as she attempted to regain her previous composure. Though, the more she tried to distract and deflect, the more she found his gaze staring at her more, raising a brow at her skeptically. Letting out a deep sigh, the witch found herself gently putting down her wine glass before running her fingers through her hair. “Well, there’s this seasonal gala that a number of the local covens and various witches are expected to attend. While I’ve begrudgingly attended in the past because of this, I’d of course much prefer to not be involved with any of it this time.”

“But?”

“ _ But... _ much to no one’s surprise, they’re not letting me get away without putting up a fight,” the witch sighed, rubbing her temples as she leaned back in her loveseat. “And of course the place will be crawling with any number of the various inhuman patrons they’ve made contracts with.”

“And because you’re a powerful witch with no ‘patron’ to speak of, your soul is little more than open season,” Vergil said, brow furrowed in thought as she silently nodded in agreement, brow furrowed deeply in annoyance. 

“Precisely,” she muttered with a soft groan. “One way or another they intend for me to attend this damned gala, especially with the fall equinox quickly approaching. And knowing what I know, demons will be far from the only thing waiting for me there. They’re hardly the only powerful beings out there seeking their share of minions and personal slabs of meat to do their bidding and so forth.” 

“So what do you intend to do about it?” Vergil asked quietly, brows furrowed curiously as he leaned in closer to her, elbows resting on his knees. 

“What else can I do? As much as I’d love to find and make myself a nice little demi-plane of existence or temporary pocket of reality to escape to for that next month or so, I can’t exactly just hide from them forever here. You already saw how stubborn Gwen was the other day,” the witch groaned at the mention of the ginger haired witch, her left brow twitching in annoyance. “Whether or not I go isn’t the question anymore since knowing them, I’m going to be dragged into it one way or another. And it’s certainly not like I can just burn any of them at the stake without serious consequences from both the society of witches and normal human society.” 

“In other words then, you’ll need someone to accompany you,” Vergil replied, eyes now gleaming with a mix of wariness and curiosity. Just what was it that made this particular coven so potent and worrisome, Vergil couldn’t help but wonder. Who were their patrons? What lords of hell did each of them serve? Could any of them be enemies of Sparda that could come to be a problem at some point, if not for him, but certainly for his beloved witch. Either way, he certainly couldn’t just stand by and risk having her walk straight into the lion’s den like a blood soaked stag. 

“Then it would be best if I accompanied you. It would hardly be beneficial for you to just go in with any one, let alone that electrified fool of yours,” Vergil said with a light huff of annoyance, earning a soft snort of amusement as his dear witch shook her head at him. 

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine you being a son of Sparda would do you a lot of favors there. Knowing Calyssa and her sisters, they’d undoubtedly have a number of patrons who’d happily try and take a swing at your head if they saw you--let alone smelled you,” Y/N countered, though no less smiling as she stared at the Dark Slayer curiously. “Though, if you do intend to come with me, there is likely one other person who would be joining us to make sure as little violence breaks out as possible. Someone not even Mundus’ most  _ loyal _ supporters would dare try and challenge him in public. Especially not without their forces behind them.”

“...I wouldn’t suppose this would be that idiot’s brother he had mentioned previously?” Vergil asked after a moment to pause, eyes narrowed warily. 

“He’s arguably the strongest card I have in my deck. Not even Mundus tried to go after him when in his prime back in the day. Though I suppose that’s only wise when dealing with one of the strongest demons of the modern era. Few people dare to try and pick a fight with none other than the prince of treachery himself,” the witch scoffed as she picked up her glass again, sipping her wine as a slight smirk curled at the corners of her lips. “Why? You’re not at all worried about him are you?”

“You just mentioned he’s among the strongest these days.” 

“Yet somehow I don’t think that’s the thing that’s bugging you the most,” she countered, already having noticed the slight shifting in the cambion’s posture since the prince’s name was first brought up. “You needn’t worry about Markus. Unless you plan to do either one of us harm, I doubt you’ll need worry much from him. Besides, he has plenty of other deals and contracts under his belt as is, he hardly needs to try and trick people into working with him. Saves him a lot of time and paperwork that way,” Y/N smirked with a soft chuckle. “Besides, you should be giving him some credit and gratitude just for this evening together.”

Now Vergil was intrigued, brow already quirked as he stared at the witch questionably as she merely continued to smile mischievously at the Dark Slayer, merely letting him be the one to piece things together as he studied her closely. He couldn’t help but note the way she seemed to cross her leg over the other, arms hugging her chest as the fine black dress seemed to only continue to accentuate her curves, her black stockings and matching heels only adding to its temping  _ effects _ . He knew well enough from the gleam in her eye that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“I will admit...the man does pass on having a decent sense of taste for vintage spirits,” Vergil said with a slight smirk as he sipped from his glass. He first thought Lady or Trish had somehow managed to pull such a high quality outfit together, though now he wasn’t sure to be cursing or thanking the demonic prince for his “generosity.” 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t offered a deal for a witch of your caliber,” Vergil scoffed, eyes scanning around the room as his eyes glanced over the various hanging pots of small blue and violet flowers and small crystal statues of various animals. He particularly liked the pale blue crystalline wolf figuring in a standing position to make it look as though it was mid howl. 

“Oh he has, and has always made it known that it’s on the table if I’m ever interested—though rest assured he’s never tried to trick or pressure me into such arrangements,” the witch added, noting the not so subtle flash of concern in the Dark Slayer’s pale blue gaze. “Like I said, he’s more gentleman than demon, contrary to popular belief.” 

“I see...” Vergil mumbled, his face resting against the knuckles of his fist as he watched her curiously, trying to make heads or tails of his dear witch and this supposed “demonic business partner” of hers. “It’s a shame we’ll be unlikely to be able to enjoy such an event—I can’t imagine they’ll be sparing much in terms of finances for something this significant for you witches.” 

“Oh but of course. It’s practically expected to spend  _ at least  _ a small fortune for those hosting the galas for the seasonal shifts such as the fall equinox and the coming of All Hallows’ Eve. Otherwise good luck showing your face for the next year at least as far as the upper class covens are concerned.” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. “I remember when I was in my early twenties and there was this one coven matron who had 6 of her 12 prized geese turn to solid gold statues while the remaining ones were cooked for the guests. All while holding up apple shaped crystal bottles held in their mouths for the wine and champagne mind you. And yes, it was very much as tacky as it was obnoxious. I remember getting a mild migraine with how overly polished some of those gold and silver statues were...Definitely the most  _ overly expensive  _ winter galas I was ever dragged to.” 

Vergil wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh as he simply stated in disbelief in hearing this. He figured a number of these coven leaders probably had a lot of wealth due to the power gained from their deals, but this felt like something out of a novel, fantastically ridiculous almost. “And yet I’m assuming that’s far from the most bizarre one you’ve ever attended.” 

The witch couldn’t help but let out a loud snort in reply as she waved a hand at the Dark Slayer. “My dear Vergil, I could literally fill several novels with some of the most bizarre and audacious things I’ve seen and heard at these events. Trust me, it makes the stereotypes people throw around about witches seem like unoriginal child’s play, which it really is truly, but that’s besides the point,” she snorted before taking another sip of her drink. “And don’t even get me started on the things I’ve heard regarding what they call ‘the Velvet Suit’ that some of these high class coven matrons have. Those are a whole other scandal and a half. And that’s not even counting the demon orgies...” 

Vergil could barely catch himself from choking on his drink as she added that last part, almost needing a moment to process what she just said and realizing the actual sincerity behind it. “I thought you said that much was nonsense.”

“Hah, oh no trust me the orgies with various other witches and demonic patrons is  _ far _ from purely made up stereotypes. Especially if you have a very nice deal with a particularly charming and powerful incubus and/or succubus,” Y/N added as she leaned back in her seat again. “Though fortunately for some of us, I’ve never attended such parts of the event. I usually take my leave around a half hour or so before then at the latest depending on my mood. Plenty of time to enjoy my fill of spirits, fine meats and tiny cakes,” she winked teasingly. “I’m not keen on sharing a bed with a demon who hasn’t at least given me a good and proper conversation, meal and dance.”

Vergil couldn’t help but cock a brow at the witch as he tilted his head almost playfully at her, perhaps feeling more than a little bolder than usual with the now many glasses of wine in his system, his cheeks slightly flushed with heat as he stared at her. “So then I suppose that just leaves us with just the dance left, does it not?” He found himself leaning close to her as he spoke, his voice low and husky, just barely being spoken above a whisper. His steely blue eyes were now transfixed on hers, drinking in every last droplet of a reaction as she stared at him, blinking as she attempted to keep her confident composure, though seemingly slipping as she failed to reply, heat undoubtedly filling her features just as quickly as it had filled his. 

“I suppose it does,” she whispered softly with a half lidded gaze as she gently set down her glass that was mostly empty at this point, save for a few lingering drops of deep crimson. “Though try not to complain too much if I step on your toes, handsome.” 

“Too much spirits for her ladyship?” Vergil smirked as he took her hand, his thumb lightly grazing over the softness of it. He couldn’t help but allow his mouth to curl into a smirk as he watched her roll her eyes at him as he pulled her close, spare hand resting at her hip. 

“Hardly,” she scoffed stubbornly as she looked up at him, face gently cradled by the warm, dim glow of the surrounding candles. The softly playing music on the nearly record player seemed to almost sense the sudden change in the room, transitioning from a slow and solemn Beethoven to the sound of a mandolin followed by the faint accompaniment of a guitar and violin. It was slow and almost solemnly bittersweet in its own strange way. A part of him could tell he had heard the track somewhere before, yet somehow unable to exactly place it. All he knew for certain was the feeling of his dear witch’s body pressed against his, the pair of them ever so softly swaying amidst their makeshift slow dance of a waltz. 

It was here that he could truly admire every facet of her features, from the way the light ever so carefully gets caught in the faint flecks of color in her eyes, to the sweet and almost intoxicating scent of pomegranate paired an earthy yet pleasant scent that came with it that he placed as being the scent of asphodel. He had seen the small white flowers around her shop and clinic a number of times. They didn’t carry the same usual sweet scent like the usual flowers usually found in lavender or roses that most people bought, yet Vergil oddly enjoyed the scent. When paired with the sweetness of the pomegranate, the earthy nature of the scent seemed to do the pairing the perfect balance of an intoxicating bittersweetness. He knew both things had ties to the Greek and Roman mythologies of the Underworld—yet Vergil couldn’t help but wonder as to why his dear witch chose those, secretly knowing of her hidden ties to the realm above. 

_ I wonder...does your wrath and sweetness match that of the legendary dread Persephone, little witch?  _ Vergil silently pondered, eyes half closed as they continued to silently sway in each other’s arms, Vergil’s thumb gently stroking her lower back as she remained close to him. Neither of them spoke a word in that moment, simply opting to drink in the tender silence of their closeness instead as the music played on. 

_ Parla più piano e nessuno sentirà _

_ Il nostro amore lo viviamo io e te _

_ Nessuno sa la verità _

_ Neppure il cielo che ci guarda da lassù _

_ Insieme a te io resterò _

_ Amore mio, sempre così _

Vergil could barely stop himself from burying his nose into her hair, breathing in that fruity yet bittersweet scent that stirred about something from within him from the inside out. A part of him that practically begged and screamed for him to never let this go—to not let her slip from his grasp as he so carefully held her against him. Despite her own clever and almost fiendish charms, looking down at her Vergil couldn’t help but perceive her to be but a delicate thing almost akin to a flower. She had a much more petite form about her, even when in one in heels. The warm glow of the candlelight gave her an almost enchanting and angelic glow about her—as though she could be shattered at even the slightest fault in his movement. 

_ Parla più piano e vieni più vicino a me _

_ Voglio sentire gli occhi miei dentro di te _

_ Nessuno sa la verità _

_ È un grande amore e mai più grande esisterà _

_ Insieme a te io resterò _

_ Amore mio, sempre così _

He knew first hand that she was hardly such a truly fragile thing, having seen first hand the kind of power his beloved witch wielded with such deadly grace and precision, even in the face of certain possible death. And yet, even still, Vergil dared not move too harshly as he held her, each movement subtle and carefully measured, gently running a hand through her long hair as his hand softly moved up her back. She was so warm and soft in a way Vergil had not known in many years now, and the way her eyes slowly blinked at him, staring at him with such an unspoken longing and warmth. The Dark Slayer was by no means used to such things during him countless nights alone and left to survive in the bitter cold, and yet he by no means made any effort to pull away from it. She looked at him with an adoration he once thought he could only dream of as a boy, and yet even now feared he’d awake to find this all be no more than a mocking dream. 

Well then, if this was all some cruel dream and trick of the mind, then he hoped he’d never dare wake from it. The very way she softly hummed and whispered his name with a seductive and sinful sweetness that almost rid the Dark Slayer of all sense of reason. He did not resist as she slowly moved her hand from his arm, her palm sweetly caressing the side of his face as he’d soon find himself pressing against it in return, moving his face ever so slightly for his lips to kiss the inside of her palm. Whatever walls or internal chains that once so stubbornly held the Dark Slayer back had practically melted and evaporated, carried off by the wind as the pair quietly basked in the warm glow of the flickering lights. No demons, covens or pesky friends or family members to interrupt them or disrupt the hypnotic melody they found themselves so carefully wrapped within. No masks, walls or need to hide from one another—the consuming warmth between them made sure of that. And yet, amidst the starved and lustful longing and undeniable adoration came something else—a bittersweet pang of knowing that this dream of theirs, much like the song, must too end at some point, knowing all too well of the cold and bitter loneliness and sorrow that would begin to eat away at the remaining remnants of kindled warmth that currently bloomed beneath them.

For no matter how sweet and wonderful the realm of the dream may be, as with the coming dawn, the dreamer too must come to wake and rise in the end. But to simply taste the forbidden fruit and drink the all too sweet ambrosia that they had been denied for so long for even a few moments longer, that alone would be more than enough. 

_ Parla più piano e vieni più vicino a me _

_ Voglio sentire gli occhi miei dentro di te _

_ Nessuno sa la verità _

_ È un grande amore e mai più grande esisterà _

As the music began to quiet and come to a close, it was with the distant chiming of the nearby grandfather clock that Vergil became aware of just how late it had become. It was past midnight at this point, and just as Vergil was about to say something, he stopped. Although she had been awake but minutes before and seemed to be perfectly swaying in time with him, he still had found her softly sleeping against his chest as he continued to hold her. A part of him was almost tempted to wake her, but instead decided against it, instead softly smiling at her sleeping form, watching as she softly breathed and unconsciously nuzzled her cheek against his chest. For once he couldn’t be more glad no one else around to see this, his face and ears practically alight with flush. 

Still, the Dark Slayer dared not wake his sleeping Persephone, gently lifting her into his arms before carrying her upstairs with ease. It took him a moment to find her exact bedroom, noting the slightly ajar door with the motif of asphodel flowers and forget-me-nots that were etched and painted into the woodwork of the door. The bedroom was a pleasant multi hue of blues with the occasional white, silver and black. He managed to carefully rest her down onto the cool velvet sheets before delicately undoing and slipping off her heels and quietly placing them aside. Gently moving a lock of hair from her face, he silently stared at her with a torn look of longing and frustration. He desired nothing more than to stay by her side, yet also dared not so freely join her without her express permission—even if she did imply that all he needed was a dance left to “share a bed” with her. Vergil forced the thought from his mind as he shook his head. He wasn’t some bumbling, idiotic heathen like his brother who would surely jump at such an offer. Besides it was getting late, it would be best if he quickly gathered the rest of his things and—

Vergil didn’t have so much as a second more to gather his thoughts as he attempted to move from the side of the large canopy bed, a hand having suddenly grabbed his wrist to stop him. Vergil practically felt his body freeze up as he silently glanced down to the hand holding onto his wrist, soon finding his witch looking up at him with barely opened eyes. “Don’t go...” she whispered, her voice soft like silk as she looked up at him with half pleading eyes, “...stay with me,  _ tesoro mio _ ... _ please...”  _ Her voice was soft and quiet, speaking somewhere between a plea and a prayer, and even despite his firmest stubbornness that would normally allow him to walk away, Vergil dared not move. The way the moonlight from the window draped over her in an iridescent blanket of silver, the way her eyes stared at him almost pleadingly...not even the usually firm and stoic Vergil could find the will nor the heart to deny her. 

“Very well, but just until you fall asleep, little sparrow,” Vergil sighed, taking off his boots and setting them aside as he allowed himself to lay down next to her. His witch merely let out a small, thankful hum and what he assumed was a soft “thank you.” 

As the minutes passed and Vergil was sure by the soft breathing and lack of movement that his witch had finally fallen asleep. However, just as he began to mentally prepare his departure, he soon found the bed shift, jerking himself from his thoughts as he’d look down to find his witch sleeping contently atop of him—her head resting contently upon his chest with her body pressed against his side as she continued to sleep. Whether this was somehow her plan to keep him there, a mere coincidence or somehow simply her unconsciously sensing his plan to depart, Vergil could not say—though knowing her, it was entirely possible to be an odd combination of the three.

_ Once again it seems you just love to watch me squirm, don’t you, my angel? There’s no chance you’re ever going to make things easy for me, is there?  _ Vergil thought to himself as a soft scoff of a snort escaped him, realizing she really had found a way to trap him after all. Though, despite successfully foiling his plans to escape, a part of Vergil couldn’t help but feel deeply pleased, if not entirely relieved in this moment, almost as though this was how things were meant to be. Vergil couldn’t exactly explain as to why this was—sure he had been intrigued by her and undoubtedly drawn to his little enchantress for the longest time since he had first met her that fateful morning in her kitchen, but this had to be a part of something else too, surely? The way his heart pulled and tugged at him so whenever he’d try to distance himself from her in any way possible; the way it practically melted at her slightest laugh or smile as she’d look at him, or even the way his heart would flutter with a sudden rush when she would so much as whisper his name...There had to be more that he was missing. But if so, why couldn’t he remember? Even the foggiest bits in his memory he could still clearly remember, so why couldn’t he remember her? 

These questions swirled about in Vergil’s mind like a flock of confused birds before finally settling upon hearing his witch softly breath his name, still sound asleep as she gently buried her face further into the soft fabric of his black turtleneck. Vergil wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh at such an usually soft and innocent expression, her face usually painted and carved with a degree of playfulness and mischief, always happy to tease the Dark Slayer to watch him squirm. And yet all Vergil could do was let out a soft sigh of defeat, a soft smile curling subtly at the corners of his mouth. 

_ It seems you’ve won this round again, my angel...Very well, I suppose I shall humor your wish, if not just this once,  _ Vergil mused wordlessly as he tenderly stroked her hair, carefully tucking any stray strands away from her face before eventually coming to rest at her middle back, mindlessly rubbing small circles into it with his thumb. He was sure Dante and the others would pester him as to why he had not returned in the morning, though just this once, he thinks he’ll be willing to deal with their pestering antics. Little by little, the Dark Slayer allowed himself to drift off into a deep slumber, wrapped in a warmth, that for the first time in many moons, seemed to melt away even the foulest of his nightmares. 

For the first time in months, the Dark Slayer was finally able to sleep in peace. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Translation:  
> Tesoro mio (Italian): my dearest one 
> 
> Song: Parla Piu Piano (Speak Softly Love): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I65Es8QJTKE


End file.
